


A Very Supernatural Fairytale

by SmackTheDevil



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Battle, Blood and Gore, Dragons, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fairies, Fairy Tale Style, Fluff and Smut, King Dean Winchester, Kings & Queens, Love at First Sight, M/M, Magic, Minor Character Death, Pining, Prince Sam Winchester, Romance, Sibling Incest, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-23 17:03:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 45,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19155289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmackTheDevil/pseuds/SmackTheDevil
Summary: The land of Harmony is split in two by the North and South kingdoms, although some may say split by 'good and evil'.After the birth of King John and Queen Mary's heir, Prince Henry Dean, King Lucifer of the South plots to take Harmony for his own and bring down House Winchester. The bitter and jealous evil king bides his time before plunging the peaceful land into a state of war.





	1. Chapter One

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away there were two kingdoms which divided the people of Harmony. The North, where its people were hard-working, kind and lived simple but prosperous lives and The South, ruled by a king who wanted nothing more to take Harmony and rule it entirely. Constantly at odds with the King of The North who was happy to co-exist and even share what his people grew and built. The two kingdoms were forever on the brink of war but through the clever negotiations of the North’s King John, war had been diverted time and time again with the help of his loyal council and thus would keep his people safe and on a harmonious footing with the people of the South. At least until the next time their evil king found himself either bored or wanting.

The North had been ruled over by King John for many happy years, by his side was his Queen, Mary. A beautiful and kind woman whom the people adored. House Winchester had sat on the throne of the north for centuries. An ancient hunting family and founders of the Men of Letters, scribes who worked tirelessly mapping the history of the Winchesters, preserving their heirlooms and traditions for generations to come. The Men of Letters also catalogued the many different species that lived alongside its people. Strange creatures that lived in the deep foreboding forests and countryside that surrounded both the kingdoms. King John was a fair man. Tall, dark and handsome, every bit the king the north needed but he fought fearlessly with not only the King of the South, Lucifer but also the many other threats indigenous to Harmony. A hunter of dragons since before his marriage to Mary, his ceremonial robes were a testament to his skill as the most fearless of all dragon slayers. All 24 of his kills had been meticulously embroidered onto the heavy velvet fabric of his robes. But with the pressures of providing the kingdom with a new heir and the increasingly tyrannical ways of King Lucifer, John did not have the time to away for days on end to kill dragons. Instead he had put together a group of hunters, The Slayers, to kill them in his stead. The fun and games usually set aside for young princes was over, he must produce an heir. 

King John sat in his private chambers. A large round room in the very top of The White Castle, House Winchester’s official residence for over 600 years. He had chosen the Round Room simply because it was the most happily situated, giving him an endless view of his kingdom. Miles and miles of untouched green forestland surrounding the main city with its towers and church steeples. A wide busy thoroughfare where the merchants traded split the city down the middle which then lead out to the corn and barley fields shared by the north and the south. Then beyond was King Lucifer’s stronghold, The Black Castle held by the sinister House of Hades. He liked to watch his people go about their daily lives, to watch them prosper. He hoped that he served them well. There was a light tap on his door.

“Come.” John said, his relaxed shoulders lifting as he knew what was expected. The door opened and inside stepped Lord Gordon, a prolific and well-respected hunter whom John had chosen to lead the Slayers and fought dragons on behalf of the ‘King and Realm’. Lord Gordon was also a relentless and unforgiving hunter of the many other weird and wonderful creatures that inhabited the forests which surrounded The White Castle and beyond. Dangerous but brave, John had never trusted him entirely. ‘Keep him close’, the council had warned. 

“Lord Robert grows impatient, Sir.” Lord Gordon announced flatly, addressing the king with the less formal ‘Sir’, John hated being called ‘your majesty’.

“Lord Robert is anything else but impatient, Gordon.” John said, rising from his seat slowly and passing his desk. Lord Gordon coughed and nodded at John’s simple gold crown sitting on a pile of books.

“It’s a council meeting. I don’t need it.”

“For the sake of the council elders, Sir.” Lord Gordon said tentatively. King John was still fairly young and therefore often surly. He grabbed his crown, a thin band of solid 24 carat gold with a small black gemstone in the centre and put it on his head at a willfully jaunty angle. 

“Do I look like a king?” 

“To me, you will forever be the boy who took down six dragons in one night and then drank until dawn.” Gordon grinned, a tense friendship indeed but one with history.

“Sometimes, I wish I were still that boy.”

No one could argue that John knew how to rule, he did and he did it very well but on occasion he was quite keen to fight against tradition, much to the chagrin of the council elders who often despaired of their king, using the term ‘The Young Buck’ behind his back. But of course, being king, John knew of the name calling. ‘Rather The Young Buck than Old Bastard’ he often said to his wife. Council meetings were dull and rarely achieved what they set out to do. King John was proactive, not pro-talking. Spending hours in the council chambers for hours end making proposals that were unlikely to ever see the light of day drove him to the edge of insanity some days. But for once, he had news for the old men of the council that would keep them quiet for at least the next nine months. Mary was expecting their first child. 

“Ah, good of you to join us.” Lord Robert said as John wandered into the council chambers to the chorus of heavy wooden chairs dragging against the stone floor as the assembled men rose to greet their king. John waved at them to be seated. 

“Sit down, please. There’s no need.”

“There is every need, Sir.” Lord Robert said curtly. A gruff bearded man but the closest of all of John’s friend and allies. Like family but without the royal bloodline. 

“Since it takes most of you many minutes to rise from your chairs, I wonder if perhaps it is a tradition we should forgo.” John quipped, sitting in a more grand chair at the head of the table. 

“Traditions are there for a reason, Sir.” Lord Rufus said, another gnarly elder statesmen who found it extremely difficult, on occasion, to hold his tongue. John could almost see words that should not be spoken sweating out from his skin.

“You remind me of that on a daily basis, Lord Rufus.” John grinned at him. Lord Robert inhaled deeply which meant that he was about to reel off a list of points that were sure to secure an overlong meeting. John held up a finger.

“I have something I want to say first.” The king said, leaning back in his seat. 

“By all means, Sir.” Lord Robert nodded.

“The queen is expecting our first child.” There were gasps of relief and of delight around the room and then a barrage of questions. Again the King lifted a hand. “We have many months to prepare, the child is expected mid winter in the next year. As for that, it is all I know.”

“You are to have a son, to be sure, Sir.” Lord Robert smiled softly at the young man whom he looked upon as a son, fighting the urge to break protocol and shake his hand. 

“A healthy child is all that the Queen I hope for.”

“A son would be preferable.” Lord Gordon offered his opinion as if it were a warning.

“The child would still be of royal blood whichever sex. For the moment, can we at least put aside what is preferable and just enjoy the news?”

“Of course, Sir. Forgive me.” Gordon nodded his apology.  
“Is the queen well?” Lord Rufus asked.

“Very well. Glowing.” The king smiled proudly. “Any other business?” He asked, knowing that his news probably far outweighed any of the points detailed within Lord Robert’s ever weighty ledger which he carried around as if it were a small child. A book full of council secrets and plans, clutched against his chest constantly as if it were a comfort to him.

“Just one.” Lord Robert said, deciding to leave everything else aside which may have felt trivial alongside the news of the new heir.

“A Pale Horse arrived this morning bearing a letter from King Lucifer.” The Pale Horses were part of the mounted cavalry of the King of the South’s army. And also used as couriers to send messages to the north. 

“What did it say?”

“I do not know, Sir. It is addressed directly to you.” Lord Robert slid the letter out from his ledger and handed it to the king. The seal was unbroken. John always hated the black seal of King Lucifer with its jagged image of a pitchfork. The King opened the letter and read it silently, Lucifer’s hand was poor and barely legible. The assembled sat quietly and waited. John closed the letter and folded it slowly. “And, what does he say, Sir?”

“He wants to seal our truce once and for all with a banquet held at The Black Castle.”

“The nerve of the man.” Lord Rufus snapped. “Refuse him. I would no longer set foot in that place than bathe in a pig sty.”

“We will accept.” King John said, handing the letter back to Robert. “Send a horse today with a reply.”

The council chamber fell silent, the old men did not want to have to travel the many, many days to visit a man such as King Lucifer, if he even was indeed a man. Word was that he was a monster. But the King was keen to build bridges to secure a safe future for his heir. The Young Buck could not be persuaded otherwise. As King John left the chambers the muttering began, he heard it and it made him smile.

Lady Ellen was the long suffering wife of Lord Robert. His calming influence but also lady-in-waiting to Queen Mary. It was usual for queens and their staff to become close confidants but with Mary and Ellen they were true friends. She was also a nurse, who Mary preferred over the aging apothecary Elkins, whom the council favoured thinking it too modern for a female to work with potions and medicine. But Mary, as with her husband had her own ideas about how she lived her life away from the throne room and public engagements. When John had announced his wife’s pregnancy, he insisted that the news be kept private from the public, at least for the first four months, then he would allow the council to spread the news around the castle and its kingdom. Just before the royal announcer was to leave for the city, Lady Ellen rushed to her husband begging him not allow the announcement nor the long journey to the south to attend Lucifer’s banquet. Mary was suddenly quite unwell with her pregnancy and Ellen was advising complete bed rest and concealment of the news to the public, just to be safe. An heir had been long awaited by the people of the south and the celebrations for the announcement alone would be huge.  
Lord Robert was not permitted to make such a decision, so went to the King who of course agreed with his wife’s lady-in-waiting and so his people went about their daily lives not knowing that a new prince or princess to be was on the way. A horse was sent out to the north, a message to King Lucifer declining his invitation on account of the Queen’s mysterious ill-health. The message did not go down well.

*

 

“They slight me, they agree to an offer of my hospitality and then they decline? Is his wife so weak of mind that it cannot will her body to move? Why can he not travel without her? A man who is willed to live by the rule of his woman will never be a good king.” Lucifer hissed, sitting slumped in chair, his body weighed down under the ornate regalia he insisted on wearing every day. “I would never let my wife tell me how to live, and she knows that. She is my queen not my mind. Isn’t that right, dearest?” Lucifer said smugly, turning to his queen who sat next to him on a throne of her own. Grand but much less ostentatious as her husbands.

“Yes, my love.” Queen Anael nodded prettily, knowing full well there could be no other reply. The King and Queen of the South were on odd pairing in every way. Lucifer was older, meaner and had an unruly mop of blonde hair and a constant snarl fixed on his face. He had been a handsome man in his youth, or so the tales went. But over time, he had been become cruel and capricious. And his face had aged to express it. Anael on the other hand was a beauty to rival the Queen of the North. While Mary was blonde and fair. Anael had hair the colour of fire and beauty much envied. She had been ambitious in her marrying Lucifer, once favouring John for a time, keen to find herself in a place of power. And John had always been tall, dark and handsome but he had seen her ways and looked right through her desires to become Queen for more nefarious purposes. He rejected her. So, she had left the court of The White Castle and travelled south, there securing the questionable affections of Lucifer. She wanted his money and he wanted her beauty. But over time, Anael had become tired of him. Indeed she lived like a queen and wanted for nothing, except perhaps love and attention. Instead of becoming bitter and twisted, she became quiet and meek, completely controlled by her husband. Her zest for life had been sucked from her, as if she didn’t have a soul any more. Their people called her ‘The Sorrowful Queen’. 

“Fools!” Lucifer bellowed, the word echoing around the draughty, torch lit halls of The Black Castle throne room. Members of his council stood in silence, nervously of course. Aside from his aide, confidant and war cohort, Crowley who had befriended the king after tailoring him new robes for his wedding to Anael and had offered him strategic advise about a possible war with the north. It was advice that impressed Lucifer so much, he placed him within his court as his right hand man. Everyone hated Crowley. Crowley knew but his ambitions were more than even the king was aware. He quite fancied the throne for himself.  
Fergus ‘Crowley’ MacLeod had been a tailor to King John’s father, King Henry up until the old mans death. They had become close, too close the council had thought and the moment Henry passed on, Crowley was relieved of his duties within The White Castle, paid handsomely for his troubles and even given a Lordship to soften the blow. It was all taken with grace, but once Crowley had left he never once used ‘Lord’ before his name but the money he took gladly. His only option was to travel south and offer his services to Lucifer. A royal tailor was already employed but Crowley had tempted Lucifer with his inside knowledge of The White Castle. He was taken on with immediate effect. The Black Castle was corrupt and dangerous, which suited Crowley perfectly.


	2. Chapter Two

Mary felt as if everyone was making too much of a fuss about her health. All through the remainder of her pregnancy, she had felt fine but not a soul would let her do a thing by herself. She already knew that she was carrying the heir to the kingdom but the child was also her baby, a child not created just out of necessity but out of love too. They would grow up loved and adored by many, she would have to share her child with her people but ultimately, no one could love the baby as much as she and John already did. And then after a long cold night, the frosts of January laid thick across the Kingdom of the North, a boy was born. A prince, an heir and hero in waiting.

The boy was swiftly examined as was usual for new born House Winchester heirs and soon handed back to his mother, King John by her side. Both overcome with joy. 

“You may announce the birth of my son.” King John said to Lord Robert who was standing at the foot of the queens bed. A place he wasn’t usually permitted to be but Mary had insisted he and Ellen should meet the new prince before any one else.

“And do you have a name for your heir, sir?” The lord asked.  
“Henry Dean.” Mary said quietly. “But he will be known only as Dean.”

“A little modern don’t you think?” Lord Robert narrowed his eyes, directing his displeasure at his King.

“His royal name is Henry, after my father but we think he is not suited to that name. He looks like a Dean, a boy who will bring change to the kingdom when it is his.” John was determined and Lord Robert knew not argue.

“Very well. I shall make the announcement immediately. But please, enjoy the little peace you have with your son while you can. The people will see the child as their own and you will not get a moments quiet.”

John and Mary knew all of that and the King waved Lord Robert and his wife away so they could indeed enjoy their son. As soon the news had spread that a royal baby had been born and within hours of the announcement gifts and letters of congratulations had started arriving at The White Castle. Well-wishers had begun gathering at its gates. Keen to catch a glimpse of the new child and to read the official statement from the castle which read; ‘His Majesty King John of House Winchester and Her Royal Highness, Queen Mary formerly of House Campbell are delighted to announce the birth of their first born son and heir, His Royal Highness Prince Henry Dean of House Winchester.’ There was much excitement amongst the people of the north. King John had no family to continue the lineage so the birth of the new prince had secured the line for House Winchester. The people gossiped amongst themselves, would the prince be handsome, fair like his mother or dark like the king? Would he be brave and become an accomplished hunter just as his father had been? What kind of king will he be? And would their be more children for the royal couple? 

The plans for a welcoming banquet, as per tradition were put into place by the council and would be held on the six month after the prince’s day of birth. The royal couple had enjoyed at least a little time alone with their son who was quiet and happy, just about sitting up in his crib sucking on a small black wooden horse that had been made for him by his father. As per House Winchester tradition, at the birth of every male heir, their father would procure their son a horse. For centuries, the majestic Black Horses of the Northern Forest had lived for the soul purpose of serving the kings who governed their land. The horses were left in peace to roam wild but by way of gratitude would allow one to be taken and gifted to any new male heir born within the lineage of House Winchester. And Prince Dean was to be no exception. They were large, bigger than ordinary horses, even putting King Lucifer’s Pale Horses to shame which were powerful but smaller and lacked majesty. Willful creatures with red eyes and the appearance of ghosts. But the Black Horses were also fearless, strong, fast and lived extraordinarily long lives. A young mare was gifted by the Black Horses and King John would present her to Prince Dean, too young to be aware of the significance but it would be what the people expected to see at the banquet. 

King John sat waiting in his chair at his first council meeting after his hiatus of fatherhood. He missed his son already. The fair haired giggly boy, chubby and happy had changed his life. He watched his council members filter into the chambers and slowly seat themselves, Lord Robert laid his ledger on the table, sighing heavily as he heaved the oversized book open.

“As you can imagine, Sir. We have a lot of business.” Lord Robert said, sighing again.

“And why? I asked you to step in as steward for the past six months, Lord Robert.”

“It is the banquet, Sir. There is much to arrange.” Lord Walker added. “And there is the question of whom to invite. King Lucifer, for example.”

“No.” King John said flatly. “I cannot.”

“I absolutely agree, Sir.” Lord Robert nodded with vim.  
“Forgive me, Sir. But was it not you who suggested we were to build bridges and work with the King of the South?” Lord Walker raised his eyebrows at his king.

“Indeed, I did. But I want the banquet to be a strictly family affair. Our people will come. The birth of our son is not a diplomatic matter, Gordon.” The King said, addressing Lord Walker informally.

“Dealing with the south will affect your son in the future, Sir.” Lord Walker added.

“Yes, in the future. He is not yet six months old. He cannot yet talk nor walk, there would be no significance in bringing Lucifer here. No. He will not be invited.” John nodded hard once, bringing the conversation to an end. Almost.

“He will see it as a slight, Sir.” Lord Walker muttered.

“Let him.”

*

Rowena MacLeod was a witch. A licensed witch. She lived in the outskirts of the town in the north but many said, she was much more suited to the south. In the south she would be free to use her magic and not require a license however, the quality of life was much favourable in the north. Nicer homes, more land per home and richer men. But Rowena was all about self preservation and gain. She was happily situated, a licensed witch by royal decree in the north but with important ties to the south. Crowley was her son. A tempestuous relationship but both agreed that they were a necessary evil in one anothers lives. For both were spies of the lowest order.  
The moment Rowena got word that Lucifer would not be invited to the banquet for Prince Dean she packed her bag and took a carriage to the south, keen to impart the gossip. For a price of course. However, she was unaware that King Lucifer was clueless about the arrival new heir. Word, by some miracle, had not reached him of Prince Dean’s existence and so when Rowena arrived at The Black Castle insisting on seeing the King, she was about to start something that would change the lives of the peoples of Harmony, forever.

“Oh goody. The Mother.” King Lucifer said, strolling into his throne with his queen walking silently behind him. Rowena curtseyed as low as she could manage, wobbling there for the Kings amusement until he permitted her to stand. “I was busy.” He said, slumping down in his throne.

“Forgive me, your majesty. But I come with news that I am certain you would want to hear.” Rowena said meekly. She was terrified of him but she knew she had the upper hand with that particular conversation.

“I doubt it but since you’re here.” Lucifer lifted a finger and motioned at her to speak.

“The King and Queen of the North have decided not invite you to the banquet, your majesty.”

“What banquet?”

“Why, the one for the new wee baby prince, of course.” Rowena said, a little confused.

“Baby prince? Since when.”

“Since six months ago, your majesty. A boy, Henry Dean. Born this mid-winter past.” Rowena nodded, smiling to herself inwardly. Lucifer fell silent and the diminutive witch could almost see his blood boiling. Even Queen Anael tensed herself.

“A boy, a prince? The heir to that ‘we’re so perfect’ kingdom? And no one had the decency to tell me?!” Lucifer bellowed, his voice echoed and bounced from the walls in the throne room. Both Anael and Rowena flinched. 

“My love.” Anael said softly.

“You may not call me that. As beautiful you may be you cannot give me an heir. No. Barren and useless. What is the point of you, hm? Like an old master hanging on a wall that gathers dust and no one pays attention too. Why are you so beautiful if you cannot give me an heir? What is your purpose?!”

“Forgive me.” Anael said meekly, fighting to hold in a wave of tears threatening to flood out.

Lucifer stood up, marched across the room past Rowena, instructed Crowley to give the witch some coin to reward her for the information then walked out of the room. No one aside from Crowley saw the enraged king for almost three and a half years. Queen Anael on the other hand was left sitting alone on her throne, weeping softly. Rowena approached her tentatively, laying a hand on the queen’s arm.

“There there, dearie.” The witch said softly, she herself quite alarmed by Lucifer’s outburst. “If you ever need me.” She whispered. “Say my name three times.” 

Anael looked up at Rowena, who gave her a quick squeeze and a secretive wink. All the Queen could manage was a silent nod, too fearful to speak.

The day of the banquet arrived and the whole of the north was abuzz with excitement. Many merchants, businessmen and their families who had been invited into The White Castle had started arriving, as had those who were to join the festivities with a huge picnic in the grounds. The few left set up trestle tables and decorations outside of the castle walls and laid on great feasts for themselves. No one was to miss out. The White Castle had been decorated with powder blue flags and bunting bearing the new princes initials in gold, as per the King’s orders, they read D.W and not H.D.W. A special ceremonial pie had been baked which had to be wheeled into the banqueting room, its crust the shape of a crown with the boys initials baked into the top. No expense was spared in welcoming the new blood. The new blood was of course, oblivious to it all. But as Prince Dean was carried by his mother into the banqueting room, he cooed and giggled at the decoration. Banners and ribbons catching the breeze, swaying from the high ceilings. And he revelled in the extra attention. 

“He will be a handsome young prince.” Many people had said.

“Brave."

“A hunter, like his father!” Another man exclaimed.

Gifts were many, jewels and robes. Books and gold goblets, beer steins and everything else a person could imagine. But it wasn’t until toward the end of the banquet that King John presented his son with his horse. A beautiful, sleek black mare. Nameless for now but a gift for his son who would learn to ride the moment he learned to walk. She was already large for a young horse and would grow bigger than even a standard stallion. Queen Mary carried her son to greet his horse. The horse bowed and the boy prince laid a chubby hand on the mares snout, the horse nodded and shook her head. The prince chuckled and bounced in his mothers arms. A bond had already been formed.


	3. Chapter Three

For three and a half years, the family lived peacefully and happily. The King at times was accused by his council of shirking his duties as monarch in favour of being a father and husband but no one could tell the King otherwise. There was no governess to teach the young prince or play with him, John took it all on with his wife. He would aide Prince Dean on his horse, even constructing a small seat for the toddler to sit upon the horse on his own. Even at three, Prince Dean was confident on the mare, which with a limited vocabulary kept referring to the beautiful creature as Baby. And so the name stuck. However, their blissful existence was about to come to an abrupt end.  
The Spring Fayre had just ended, a week long festival of music, food and crafts. The King and Queen had attended with their son, joining the festivities on the final day. Prince Dean was exhausted after all the excitement and had not taken kindly to his mothers insistence to bathe him since he was covered in blackberry pie, almost from head to toe. But Mary was calm and nurturing as always and soon he was giggling and laughed himself into deep sleep. 

“He’ll get fat.” King John chuckled, after laying the Prince down to sleep and walking with his wife into their bed chambers. 

“It was a treat.” Mary grinned. “And pie is all he will eat, at least there is fruit them.”

“No one will take a fat king seriously.” John teased as he slipped next to his wife under the sheets. Mary poked her husbands slight paunch. 

“Perhaps, as king, you should listen to your own advice.” Mary kissed her husbands cheek and both laid down to sleep, the night taking them swiftly. 

In the small hours of the morning, before dawn was even a thought, John was woken by Prince Dean crying. It was unusual to hear his son cry, even weep and immediately rushed from his bed. The child was distressed, red faced and tear streaked.

“Mama.” The young prince sobbed. “Mama.” John turned to his wife whom he expected to still be asleep but she was not there. John picked up his son, who clung to his father tightly, still muttering the word ‘Mama.’ He called out to his wife then moved from room to room in search of her.

“Gone. Mama, gone.” The prince sobbed. The king left his chambers, alerting the two guards who stood on duty outside his chambers.

“The Queen, has she left the chambers this night?”

“No, your majesty. We have not seen her.”

“She is gone.” He said plainly and soon, the guards were off, waking the council members, the castle staff and the rest of the guards until The White Castle was swarming with bodies. The young Prince was still sobbing quietly, his face buried into his fathers neck.

“The Queen?” Lord Robert appeared from his chambers in his bed clothes from high up in the castle. 

“She is missing. Dean says she is ‘gone’. Take him.” The King said, handing his son to Lady Ellen. The Prince tried to cling on to his father but Ellen coaxed him gently against her. 

“Let your father go.” Ellen said softly and then Prince Dean clung to her, she was like an aunt to him. He trusted her.

King John fled, leading a search of The White Castle and its grounds while the Prince was taken to safety at the very top of the castle. The search was extensive. Every room and passageway was checked. Men were sent down to the never used dungeons and even the sewers were checked but Queen Mary was nowhere to be found. The hunt was extended out into the town, the forest and lands beyond. For John, it was relentless. Every person who breathed was questioned over the months and years that followed. Even King Lucifer had sent his condolences and assistance. The north fell into a long period of grieving. King John however would not give up, he could not simply rest and accept that she would never be found.  
As the years went on, John became bitter and mean, neglecting his son whose grief for the loss of his own mother had not been addressed. Lord Robert and Lady Ellen brought the boy up, the young prince only seeing his father once a month, if that. Lord Robert attended to his combat studies and horse riding, while Lady Ellen struggled assisting him with his academic work, which the prince hated with a passion. And in his down time, he would play with Joanna, the young daughter of Robert and Ellen. Of course, neither could go anywhere without eyes on them but through all of the hysteria surrounding his mothers disappearance, the prince made the best of what he had. He excelled at weapons work and rode his mare Baby like he was borne to it but inside him was the need to do more, to help his father on his long quests to find the queen. Even when he came of age, he was not permitted to join. John too terrified to lose his son too. Not to mention his only heir. 

One good occurrence that came alongside the vanishing of Queen Mary was the truce between the north and the south. Lucifer had been nothing but helpful and understanding, even the trade between the two kingdoms had improved. But still the shadow of the missing queen hung heavily over the north and some felt as if they were being pitied by the southern king.  
By the age of 24, Prince Dean had become persuasive enough to be allowed by his father to join the hunts. Not only was John hunting his wife but also taking his anger and grief out on dragons and forest dwellers and anything foul that got in his way. And Dean was keen to join him. Since his studies had ceased four years ago, he had little else to do. He attempted to rule in his fathers stead but was not yet ready to rule over a kingdom and so left Lord Robert in charge as steward. Prince Dean had grown into a handsome, tall and fair young man. With thick dark blonde hair and the greenest eyes in all of Harmony, he was much coveted by the ladies in The White Castle’s court but he was not interested in any kind of union, not while he still had the chance to hunt. And he did. Proving not only to himself and the King but to his people that he was an accomplished hunter which some argued surpassed the King himself. He was a confident horseman, he and Baby had a deep understanding of one another, as if they were joined by thought. 

At 26 he surpassed all expectations and one such tale of Prince Dean and his horse reached back to the kingdom of the north and would go on, many centuries into the future as a story people would read to their children at bedtime:

*

THE PRINCE, HIS HORSE AND THE DRAGON

‘Prince Dean was the only son to Mad King John. They had lost their mother and wife respectively who had vanished one cool Spring night. The king was stricken with grief and guilt and took out his anger on every evil creature who crossed his path. The young prince however, determined as much as his father, had youth and speed and cunning. He had grown into the bravest of all princes for he had only the burden of the loss of a mother, not one of the truest and purest love. The love of a chosen one.   
One night, the party of hunters led by the King and his son rode deeper into the forest than anyone else had dared to go. They had wandered into the dangerous realm of the dragons. Some of the hunters were thrown from their terrified horses and fled in fear of their lives. It was one thing to hunt and kill a dragon that had encroached on your land, but another to go looking for their lair. It had been a dream of King John’s since he was a small boy to slay the Mother Dragon. To kill her, would kill all dragons, dead. Never before had John had the daring nor twisted mind to enter their realm until now. 

Father and son slayed all the sleeping dragon kin, smaller but still powerful. The Mother was nowhere to be seen. As Dean sat cleaning his broadsword he looked upon the mountain in front of him as day broke, the sun appearing slowly over the top. And then, the mountain breathed. For it was not the rugged landscape but a waking dragon. The Mother Dragon. She screamed when she saw the slain bodies of her children around her, a hollow, heartbroken bellow that echoed across Harmony. Still in a state of slumber, she saw the two retreating men and drove a claw into John’s chest, pinning him to the ground. Prince Dean was helpless, he mounted Baby and taunted the Mother with his golden sword, keen to entice the dragon away from his father. The Mother lifted her claw and King John fell to the ground gravely injured. 

Prince Dean rode Baby like he never had before and the horse responded to his directions. Her hooves cut into the ground beneath her, kicking up sod and grass, the prince feeling the beat of every thud deep inside his chest and then, a shadow covered them. The Mother dragon was in chase of them. Still sleepy, she attempted twice to roast them with fire but failed, her face too wet with tears of grief. As Baby and her prince galloped on, for the first time in his life Dean could see the ocean that surrounded Harmony. The land came to an abrupt end, a huge white cliff with a drop into the cold, merciless sea.   
“Pull up, Baby.” Dean yelled at his horse who showed him   
nothing that she was slowing. The prince pulled out his sword as the dragon kept up, her sheer size almost covering them in darkness. “Pull up!” The prince yelled again as the cliff edge was near. The dragon was lagging but Baby showed no sign of stopping, the prince said a small prayer to greet his death. But as they reached the edge, Baby came to an abrupt halt, which confused the dragon who took too long to slow down. Prince Dean saw his chance.

“Make me tall, Baby!” Prince Dean shouted above the roar of the angry dragon and Baby complied, rearing up on her hide legs and letting out a visceral whinny. The prince lifted the sword up high and sliced into the soft scaled underbelly of the dragon, his gold sword poisoning her. The Mother Dragon wailed as the poison spread through her colossal body. The prince ducked as the dragon lost all coordination and fell screaming into the sea. Dean peered over the edge and saw the body of the dragon, its head in the water, its body lain over the rocky edge. 

The age of dragons was over.

Prince Dean, exhausted and covered in the purple blood and torn scales of the dragon, turned Baby around and let her guide him back home, his sword remained in his hand and soaked up the magical blood giving him the most powerful weapon in all of Harmony. From that day on he would name his sword, Impala and on his royal robes was an image of a slain dragon, embroidered in gold and purple thread. And Prince Dean became the most famous hunter in not one kingdom but two.’

*

So while King John recovered from his injuries from the dragon claw, he left his kingdom in the hands of his 26 year old son, Prince Dean. The council had voted against it. The Prince, although clearly brave was not ready to rule the Kingdom of the North but John would have it no other way. He had given up on life itself and Dean was his rightful heir. News soon spread of the heroic prince and his new position as provisional monarch. The public loved him and adoration for the Prince went as far as the south. Lucifer’s people loved a hero and he was a kind and friendly man too. And not to mention, incredibly handsome. Tales of Prince Dean of House Winchester, the Dragon Slayer had obviously reached Lucifer who was envious of the young prince. And even more enraged by his own people’s love for him. A man they had never once set their eyes upon. But with the secondary news of the ailing king, Lucifer took his chance to seize the opportunity of an impromptu visit. Keen to sneer at the sickly king and examine the would be boy-king, for he himself also had something new to offer Harmony. 

Prince Dean was in the castle grounds practicing his sword work. Impala was so heavy and cumbersome, it was vital the prince worked with the blade every day. Even his scabbard was fixed to his back because the weight and length of the sword was too big and heavy to be held at his hip. The tales went that the Prince’s strong bowed thighs were caused by the weight of his sword. A myth but one that amused Dean no end. As he lifted Impala and placed the blade into the scabbard on his back, he saw a very harassed Lord Robert running across the courtyard, holding his robes up and against him to stop him from tripping and dragging them in the hot fresh water spring which ran around the circumference of The White Castle.

“Your highness, your highness!” Lord Robert called, the Prince favoring the correct address rather than ‘Sir’.

“What is it? Is it my father?”

“No, it is King Lucifer. He comes.”

“He comes?”

“Yes, your highness. The tower guards spied his entourage, many carriages come this way.”

“He has not been invited, are you sure it’s him?” The Prince frowned.

“Indeed. For the carriages carry the sigil of House Hades. The red pitchfork on black. You must prepare, change your attire.”

“I will not.” The Prince said glancing down at his clothes. Rust coloured leather and suede, brown boots and silver mail across his chest. “Am I naked?” He asked, as he watched Lord Robert cast a disapproving eye over his outfit. 

“No, your highness. Of course, stay as you are.”

“Right, then I shall. I suppose I will meet with him in the throne room.”

“Yes, your highness but I will insist you wear your crown.”

“Fine.” 

The prince was suddenly surrounded by guards and the members of his council. His sword was removed from his back as it would prevent him from sitting and the King’s crown was placed on his head. Someone, he didn’t know who, attempted to place his robes across his shoulders but he shrugged them off. It was too hot for leather and suede let alone ermine too. The Prince walked into the throne room and sat upon the throne, Impala unsheathed by his side, leaning against his leg by way of warning to the King of the South. 

The arrival of King Lucifer seemed to take an age and a day. The Prince started to become restless until finally his presence was announced along with an entourage of over twenty people.

“Good thing I’ve got a castle.” The prince whispered to Lord Robert.

King Lucifer bowed as was custom for a visiting monarch to another kingdom, and Prince Dean rose from his throne, stepping down to greet the king.

“Your majesty.” The Prince said, bowing his head slowly. 

“And what do I call you?” Lucifer said through a smile laced with a touch of venom.

“Your highness. I am not king.”

“But soon, to be sure.”

“My father is quite well, he just requires rest. I am more than happy to take up his mantle until he is well again.”

“And to do it so, informally attired.” Lucifer quipped.

“Your arrival was sudden, I was in training and had no time to change.”

“Ah yes. I see your famous sword, the one that took down the Mother Dragon.” The King nodded over Prince Dean’s shoulder.

“A powerful weapon indeed.”

“More so now, I am told.” 

“Hmm.” Lucifer’s nostrils flared like the dragon Dean had slayed then turned to his vast entourage. “Let us get these formalities over with. My wife, the Queen Anael.” He said and the Prince stepped forward bowing his head. She looked beautiful but sickly and drawn. “Crowley, my closest and most trusted adviser.” Again, Dean nodded in politeness. “And then-” King Lucifer frowned as he looked around until he spied the person he was seeking; a tall young man standing quietly at the back of the entourage. He clicked his fingers and the young man, serious but handsome and dressed in black leather trimmed with red stepped forward. -”my son, Prince Samuel Lucifer of the House Hades.”

The gasps from the Prince’s own court and council could be heard around the throne room. There had been no word that the King of the South had produced an heir but there he stood, tall like a tree, stoic and almost charmless.

“You have an heir.” Prince Dean said with surprise, bowing to the tall young man, who bowed back out of nothing but necessity.

“Your mother and father kept you a fine secret for six whole months. I kept mine quiet for 22 years.” Lucifer smirked as if it were some kind of competition.

“A commendable feat indeed, your majesty.” 

“He is quite the hunter too.” Lucifer said proudly looking up at his son. Dean had never seen a boy so huge with a body that looked like it could crush a man, yet with a face so elfin and delicate. And his hair was long, longer than was acceptable for a man, tied in a braid which laid over one shoulder.

“I am impressed. Perhaps, during your stay, Prince Samuel you would care to join me on a hunt.” Prince Dean was all charm.

“I would be honoured.” Samuel said flatly.

“Your majesty, if you would allow my servants to take you to your quarters while we prepare a banquet for your arrival and we shall reconvene here at 7 o’clock. You must be tired from the journey.”

“Thank you. I hope you are able to put on feast in such a short time, I know that it can be a struggle for your people since food is not as plentiful in the north.” Lucifer bowed, then was lead away by nervous looking servants and his people followed, as they always did. Except prince Samuel who held on for a moment.

“Your sword is impressive, your highness.” Samuel whispered to the Prince of the North.

“Thank you, and please, call me Dean.”


	4. Chapter Four

The banquet Prince Dean laid on for King Lucifer was nothing less than a miracle. Dean was not inclined to kowtow to the evil king but needs must and soon the throne room was lined with trestle tables and laden with food that had been sent from all over the kingdom. His people had done him proud in his hour of need. Northern banquets were always grand but relaxed affairs. With much music and song and entertainment. A table for Prince Dean and the Southern King, his wife and the surprise prince had been set up alongside the throne, it was clear that King Lucifer was enjoying the hospitality, drinking and eating and shouting commands at the musicians to play songs of his own choosing. Prince Dean hated every minute of it. He had also hated telling his sick father that he was hosting the wicked King, the news was not taken well and John had to be sedated to calm his nerves. However, Prince Dean sought solace in the company of Prince Samuel, who unlike his father was quiet and extremely intelligent. Something he had over Dean himself. The Prince of the North was never a stupid boy nor man but he found his academic studies a bore and thus could often find himself less informed than others. 

“What is it like, hunting in the forests of the south?” Prince Dean asked Samuel.

“Eventful.” Samuel smirked. 

“Creatures of the supernatural?”

“Some.” Samuel shrugged. “We do not hunt what you refer to as monsters, your highness.”

“Oh?”

“They are not a threat to us. At least, not all.”

“How curious.” Prince Dean frowned.

As far as Prince Dean’s studies went, the one thing he did read up on was the lore left behind by the Men of Letters that covered the history of the forest. It was vast, beyond imagination and stretched around both kingdoms, reaching out to the cliffs that held back the water. Only Prince Dean had been near the water when he had slayed The Mother Dragon since it was the earth and the small streams that ran through the towns that provided all that the people needed. They knew nothing of sea travel and ships, nor fish and sea birds. But the forest held them in their place, providing wood to build homes, fruit and game. But as was clear, all that came at a price. For the forest was overrun with supernatural beings which rarely ventured into either cities. The forest dwellers mostly hid but every so often they would roam into the cities and attack prompting hunts both royal and civilian. 

“I would very much like for you to show me the dragon you slayed.” Prince Samuel said, whispering softly. His manner softening.

“I do not know if I could trace it. I was many, many days on horseback away from the castle. But, I have been pondering the idea to collect some scales before the thing slides into the water and is lost forever. The scales and blood of the Mother Dragon has magical properties.”

“I know.” Samuel smirked again. Prince Dean wondered if he should be consorting with the enemy but Samuel didn’t seem as much of an ass his father was. A little stiff and emotionless but nice enough and had pretty eyes which reminded Dean very much of the colourful stained glass windows in the ceremonial hall.

“Then tomorrow, we shall set out. Do you climb?”

“I do.”

“Just as well, since the dragon fell over the cliff edge of and it is many feet down.”

“I can do it if you can.” And to Prince Dean that sounded like a challenge he couldn’t refuse.

*

“You are absolutely not going out there alone with that strange boy.” Lord Robert inhaled sharply. “You will need guards.”

“Why? They all ran off last time I went that far out. And there are no dragons now.” Prince Dean said smugly. “You are welcome.” He grinned.

“Listen here, boy.” Lord Robert spoke informally to the Prince. “I practically raised you and I will not send you off to your death. My job is to protect the king.”

“Then protect the king. I think he may want his feather pillows fluffing.” Dean said sarcastically.

“And to protect the future king.” The old man sighed.

“Bobby.” Dean said kindly, calling him the name he had as a child. “You worry too much.” Lord Robert scowled at him then relented, there was little he could do.

Baby was saddled up and prepared for the prince who was sitting in the courtyard of The White Castle sharpening Impala and waiting for the arrival of Prince Samuel. The weather looked threatening, the dark clouds pregnant with rain and the prince wore a forest green cloak over his usual rust coloured leather and suede hunting gear. Baby hated the wet weather plus she would be laden down not only with her thick set prince and his broad sword but also ropes and metal hooks for his decent into the sea. Dean noticed her nodding her head then lifting it toward the sky. He stood up, laying Impala against the stone bench upon which he had been sitting and stroked the mares snout.

“It’s okay Baby, this is going to be a good run. Stretch those legs a little.” He said softly. As he nuzzled her nose, he noticed Samuel approach him, sitting tall upon a Pale Horse. Dean did not tend to like the Pale Horses. They were not white, like the wild horses he had loved so much as a child which lived together in the plains beyond the north, they were grey and almost opaque. Worse still they had mean red eyes but Prince Samuel looked beautiful and quite comfortable sat upon his stallion which was as muscular and as quiet as he was and quite handsome for a Pale Horse, pure white with sparkling silver eyes.

“Magnificent beast.” The southern prince said, nodding at Baby.  
“She’s my Baby.” Dean said proudly. “And your stead?”

“His name is Riot. He was the only horse I was allowed” Samuel nodded. “I have no affinity with them usually, I just know how to ride. But Riot seemed to possess a more unique look. He has a fine temperament too.”

“It suits you well.” Dean said, as he mounted Baby. A servant handed him Impala and slid it into the riding scabbard around his waist which was the only time he wore the sword this way. Prince Samuel looked around, expecting to see some kind of entourage.

“Just us? Your father allows you, his heir to hunt alone without guards.”

“I’m 26. I’m more than capable.” Dean frowned and turned Baby around to walk her to the castle gates, Samuel moved along beside him. Once they had circled around the castle walls Dean turned to Samuel. “Have you ever raced through a forest before?” He said gleefully.

“Ridden yes. Raced? No.” Prince Samuel said quietly. 

Dean grinned, gave Baby a solid, firm kick and let out a loud, sharp ‘Hah!’ then sped off through the wood with Samuel on his tail. There was no question that Prince Dean was the better horseman, plus he had extensive knowledge of the forest. Knowing when to duck and turn sharply to avoid hitting trees, jumping Baby over wide brooks, her hooves breaking the ground beneath her. It was if the horse was as much a part of the game as her prince was. But Samuel held his own and showed great instinct, not once taking over his northern counterpart but mostly riding alongside him. The further they moved away from the castle and the kingdom proper, Samuel seemed to come out of his shell. Whooping and yelling and smiling as he took Riot over streams and ducked under low hanging branches. Even the horse himself seemed to take on a more genial personality. When the boys finally came out of the forest, both were trembling with adrenaline. Both horses were full of energy and Prince Dean suggested a short break to water them and to perhaps rest themselves.

“It is exhilarating, yes.” Prince Dean laughed breathlessly as he dismounted, giving Baby a rough rub across her behind, by way of appreciation.

“Indeed.” Samuel nodded, grinning at his horse, who playfully nodded his head as if in agreement. The boys let their horses wander free to find water and settled down on a plain of grass which stretched for miles and toward the former lands where the dragons had lived. “What is beyond here?”

“The plain. More forest and the home of the dragons and then rocks and seas, it will take us a few days to get there. My father and I did not realise how far out we had travelled.

“It is very beautiful land.” Samuel said, undoing a button of his high collar. He was dressed in black and red again, severe and tightly fitted to his body but his initial stiffness had vanished and he was all smiles and charm. It had not gone unnoticed by Prince Dean. Perhaps, he thought, it was a break from the drudgery of being son to King Lucifer. 

“Thank you. I prefer to be out there than I do at The White Castle. I feel that you also enjoy the outdoors.”

“I do. Yes.” Samuel nodded and half smiled. They sat together quietly for a time, sipping water from their skins and eating eating apples and small maple cakes that Ellen had insisted they take. After a while Samuel inhaled. “Are you not yet married?”

“No. My people are keen to see it but it does not feel right for me.”

“That would be unorthodox. A king without a queen.” Samuel remarked. Prince Dean just shrugged.

“What use is a queen in the running of a kingdom, unless she was queen by her own birthright.

“A valid point.”

“Thank you, Samuel.” The Prince said casually.

“It’s Sam. I mean, only my father calls me Samuel. My friends call me Sam.” He grinned. 

“A friend. I do not have many of those. Not any more. Joanna is my only friend. It can be a lonely life, do you not agree.”

“For sure, my father has never been keen for me to have friends of my own, his friends are my friends. He does not know I am here with you this day.”

“Oh, playing with fire.” Prince Dean smirked.

“You have no idea. You see, I have no affinity with him. I did not realise this before now.” Prince Samuel seemed suddenly perplexed by the new emotions toward his father. “I do not like him.”

“Not many people do.” Dean said cautiously. 

“Aye, it is true. My father is a tyrant and his people are oppressed.”

“And your mother, the Queen Anael?”

“I feel nothing toward her.”

Prince Dean was saddened by the revelations but also confused by Samuel’s complete change in personality. He thought for a moment, opened his mouth to speak then shook his head.

“No.” He said to himself.

“No?”

“Nothing. I mean to say, would it be possible that the King holds some kind of spell over you. I could not help but notice. And forgive me, but yesterday you seemed aloof and disinterested. Yet today, you are all charm and goodwill.”

“I could not say. He studies magic, very dark evil magic. But all I know is that here I feel like a very different man than I do when I am around him.”

“Well, we have many days to enjoy our freedom away from being princes, from being property. It will be an adventure.” Prince Dean grinned and Samuel followed, the northern prince was infectious with his enthusiasm for life. And it was a fever that Samuel was keen to let take hold.

Back at the White Castle, King Lucifer was beyond furious and poor Lord Robert was taking the brunt of his anger.

“You let the heir to your kingdom ride off. Alone! With my son?!” Lucifer bellowed, right in Lord Roberts face.

“I did not allow anything, your majesty. Prince Dean is his own man, I did advise against it but he did not take it.”

“Instead, he took my son!”

“I find it unlikely he ‘took him’.” Lord Robert said sarcastically. A daring tact when addressing the King of the South. “Boys will be boys. They no doubt went hunting for a few days. Our hospitality will be extended and your every whim will be attended to, your majesty.” 

“Hmm, if he has not returned in two days, I will see that your grumpy, bearded head finds itself on the nearest block!” Lucifer yelled then swept his heavy, gaudy robes dramatically and marched off to his quarters. Lord Robert inhaled sharply then advised the kings guards to ready themselves to go in search of the two princes in 48 hours. Or get ready for a fight. It could go either way, he warned. 

The princes however, oblivious to the furore they had caused back home were enjoying the time away from royal life. Samuel reveled in the freedom from his father and Dean was making the most of having a friend. Samuel as it turned out was a skillful archer and took down a plump deer for their supper, emerging from the woods with the animal slung over shoulder and his leather jerkin casually open. His chest was bleeding. But more shocking was that Dean could see his chest. The northern prince was the most virtuous of all whom went before him, keeping himself pure for his one true love and never had he set his eyes upon so much flesh of another.

“You are injured?” Prince Dean said with concern, lifting the deer from Samuel’s shoulder and laying it on the ground.  
“It is nothing. I had a fight with some brambles.”

“Ah yes. The blackberries they yield are the size of apples but the thorns are bigger.” Dean pulled a rag from his pack and placed it over the wound, his eyes averting from the flesh on display. “Legend has is that when you pick the blackberries, the thorns grow bigger the next year.”

“They are like daggers.” Samuel chuckled weakly, hissing at the pain. 

“They are poisonous too.” Dean said, cleaning the wound. He heard Samuel gasp in fear.

“I am joking.” Prince Dean smirked.

“That’s not funny.”

“It was a little funny.” Dean grinned, Samuel couldn’t help but chuckle too. 

Prince Dean offered to skin and prepare the deer while Samuel contained the bleeding from his wound. He built a fire and set the huge slabs of venison to cook over the flames. 

“I did not ask. Are you not promised to another?”

“No.” Samuel shook his head, removing the bloody rag from his chest, the bleeding had stopped. “There had been one. Jessica. But she died.”

“I am sorry.”

“Please, do not be. It was not right for me, in my heart of hearts. But she was a precious soul and I miss her dearly. But now, I feel that I will never find love, not love how I want it to be.”

“And how is that?”

“To fall in love naturally and not by way of my fathers choosing.”

“I am lucky, my father would never force me to marry. No matter how many pretty girls arrive at court, they are never enough to tempt me.” Dean chuckled, turning the venison over with care. 

“What would tempt you?” Samuel hissed in pain as he sat up from leaning against a mossy rock. 

“True love. An affinity. A connection. I would not settle for anything less than that.”

“Your parents, the king and queen. I have heard tales of their love.” Samuel said softly.

“Aye, it is true. The deepest love there is.”

“I am sorry about your mother.” 

Prince Dean just nodded. The mood became solemn for a moment. A few minutes of silence in memory of the lost queen.

“I do not understand the attraction to women.” Samuel said quietly, smiling to himself as he assisted Dean with the venison.

“Nor I.” Prince Dean looked up at Samuel, shyly at first before sitting up, his back straight. The northern rrince lifted his head and looked at Dean. “How do you like your venison?” 

“Rare.” Samuel shifted forward and dragged the most suitable slab of meat from the fire. Prince Dean did not know whether it was the heat from the flames that warmed his cheeks or the gaze of the man sat in front of him but he felt strange. A little swirl of nerves built up inside his belly as if full of the giant purple butterflies they kept in the summer house at home. It reminded him of a conversation he’d had with Lady Ellen when he was not yet 14 years old.

*

~ “How will I know when I am in love? Father will not talk about it, not since mother vanished but I want to know, Aunt Ellen.” Prince Dean was always full of questions about his parents, never having remembered them together that well and Lady Ellen was always keen to talk about the love they had for one another. The purest and most intense love she had ever seen.  
“Love is different for everyone, Dean. Some feel it as a strong emotion, one that overpowers all other emotions. Some see it as practical, they still love but it is warm and safe.”  
“But how will I know, what will I feel?” The young prince pressed. Lady Ellen smiled and referred back to what Mary had told her about first setting eyes on the then, young Prince John.  
“When you meet the person who is your true love, you will just simply know it in your heart. They will beguile you, your whole body will tremble in their very presence and you will want nothing more than to be with them always. You will just simply, know.” ~


	5. Chapter Five

The thoughts inside Prince Dean’s head were in conflict as he ate his food silently, using the act of eating by way of not having to speak. His head was telling him that Prince Samuel was a boy, he could not love a boy. He had never once heard of anyone loving a boy. And yet, when he looked at the young tall prince across the flames, he could not help himself. He finally understood the word ‘beguiled’, a word that he had never heard of before and had not asked Lady Ellen for its meaning. But perhaps that was her point. He now knew without having to refer to a dictionary to discover what it meant. He knew that just by looking at the prince. Samuel. Sam. That he was completely and utterly beguiled by him.

“As much as I can admit that I barely know you. Being silent for so long, is not like you at all.” Samuel said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I am thinking.” Dean said, sliding his hands down his suede pants to wipe them clean.

“Ah, then I am sorry to have interrupted your thoughts.”

“No, no. For it is you that is within them.” 

“Is that usual for a person to think about those who are present?” Samuel chuckled lightly.

“Not at all. I suppose I am still a little shocked at seeing so much of you.” Prince Dean said, nodding toward Samuel’s black leather jerkin which was still open. Dean averted his eyes again.

“Forgive me. I do not wish to embarrass you.”

“You mistake me, it is not embarrassment that I feel.” Dean looked up at Samuel slowly. Samuel, a little more worldly aware in matters of the heart and body cocked an eyebrow.

“I feel it too. But I understand if our thoughts are forbidden in your kingdom.”

“Not forbidden just unheard of.”

Samuel moved from one side of the fire to join Dean on the other. 

“Is anything else forbidden?” 

“Much, Samuel.” Dean nodded.

“Sam. Please call me Sam. Tell me, what is forbidden in the kingdom of the north.” Sam leaned back casually, his jerkin shifted a little and revealed a nipple, pierced with a tiny black bar, a red pitchfork at each end. Dean inhaled sharply and made a note to look only at Sam’s face.

“The body is sacred and should only be seen by ones true love until after wedlock.”

“That is fair. And kissing, what about kissing?”

“I am not so sure.” Dean frowned, he didn’t remember anything about kissing when he was forced to read ‘Love and Monarchy: A History’. “I have never. And I don’t know how to.” Dean blushed a little.

“Do you not feel that love should be sealed by a kiss. As a test to see if you truly are the right fit?”

“I suppose that is true, yes.” Dean nodded. “But I have never. I only saw once. A young maid and one of the guards.” He chuckled at the memory.

“I have not either. Not once.”

“Not with Jessica?”

“No.” Sam shook his head slowly. “Maybe we should try.” He said, lifting Dean’s chin slowly. “Just once.” Dean inhaled sharply, he closed his eyes then felt Sam’s fire warmed lips against his. Not kissing, just a firm press. The southern prince pulled away and Dean sighed softly, opening his eyes. 

“I think perhaps we will find ourselves in a lot of trouble.” Dean chuckled and Sam kissed him again. Longer and with more passion, Dean kissed back and his head spun and his heart sang. He was in love.

They laid together after their first kiss, Dean’s head on Sam’s shoulder, toying with the braid which was curling over his shoulder.

“Is there a tradition behind your braid?” Dean asked softly.

“No. My father dislikes it to hang naturally, so I braid it. He would rather see it chopped off but this is a compromise.”

“I would like to see your hair."

“Perhaps tomorrow.”

The two princes slept side by side, not embracing, just leaning against one another as the fire burned away to a soft glow and by dawn, the morning dew had extinguished it completely. There was a chill in the air which carried the salty spray of the sea from many miles away. They breakfasted on cold venison and the last of the maple cakes then rode at a gentle pace as dawn gave way to what promised to be a warm, sunny day. As they rode, they often held hands and Dean lost himself in Sam’s company, pushing away thoughts of forbidden love and the certain wrath of Lucifer. Enjoy him, a voice inside him whispered, enjoy him.  
As the plains morphed into more forest, the Princes’ rode closer and even Riot and Baby knocked heads as if making friends too.

“I hope your mare is not in season.” Sam grinned, glancing at Dean.

“She will be soon. Imagine the kind of beast this pairing would produce.” Dean pondered.

“Imagine a child of ours.” Sam added dreamily. 

“I know enough of anatomy and biology to know that would not be achievable.” Dean said soberly.

“I said imagine.” Sam sighed but laughed softly. ‘We are in a world where it is ours, and only ours, Dean."

“Forgive me. My head is not my own, I feel weary. May we rest early tonight.” 

“Of course, there is a stream just ahead for the horses.” Sam nodded, dismounting his stallion leading the horse to the stream while Dean remained saddled on Baby until he reached the water. He climbed down slowly and slumped on the ground, he head down. “Are you well?” Sam asked, kneeling in front of Dean.

“I am quite well. However, my mind cannot make sense of my feelings for you.” Dean said sadly. “They are strong and we are all but strangers. I will not lie. I fear the future.” Again, Sam lifted Dean’s face gently, a finger under his chin.

“We own the time we live in now, we should not burden ourselves with what could come. Here and now is all that matters.” Sam spoke coaxingly and slowly. 

“I could spend a lifetime with you.”

“Then be present for this is where I am, my love.” 

Dean inhaled sharply and Sam stole the breath, pressing his lips against Dean’s softly, coaxing again but with his tongue. Dean kissed him back and for the first time, laid his hands on Sam’s hips, fingers gripping the leather and pulling him closer. The kiss was more heated than their first and Dean felt more than butterflies. He pulled away, breathless but smiling. 

“We shall stay here tonight and watch the stars through the trees and make out that they are for us.” Dean whispered.

Dean sat making a small fire as Sam sat perched squat on a small rock, bow in hand watching a group of small brown rabbits. The horses almost knew to be still and Dean paused to watch Sam, his arrow poised, the fletching pressing against his face, his back straight. Dean barely noticed Sam react as the arrow was let go and struck the largest of the family of rabbits. 

“Bravo.” Dean grinned. “I was never able to grasp the bow, but you are a master.” Sam bowed his head.

“When you hunt with me, you eat like a king.” Sam smirked, climbing down from the rock to retrieve the rabbit. He sat down next to the fire, pulling the arrow from the animal and set about skinning it. He handed the rabbit, skinless, to Dean then leaned forward. “I have to clean my wound but I shall be at the stream. Do not look, or look. I do not care.” Sam was all mischief as he spoke. Dean worried his bottom lip with his teeth as Sam sat with his back to him, kneeling at the waters edge. He watched Sam unlace his leathers and lean over the water. He saw nothing, but wished he had but sight of Sam’s chest and the pierced nipple hadn’t left his mind for a moment. After a moment, Sam pulled his braid over his shoulder and slid the black ribbon from around it. Dean paused and watched with interest, he knew for sure that it wasn’t forbidden. The braid unraveled naturally, glossy brown waves untangled and fell down his back. Dean had never seen a man with such long hair, he was mesmerized. 

“Beautiful.” Dean said, just loud enough for Sam to hear. Sam turned to look at him, then beckoned him over. Dean knelt next to Sam and pushed his fingers through the length of his hair. It was silky and smelled like roses. Sam leaned into the touch and Dean laid the hair neatly over Sam’ shoulder then dared to rub the back of his knuckles over the Southern prince’s bare collarbone. And then down, his fingers unfurling dragging the tips over Sam’s chest until his middle finger brushed against his nipple. Dean could feel the metal bar under the skin and it lingered there. Sam let out a soft noise which Dean had not expected.

“I am sorry.” Dean muttered, pulling his hand away but was caught by Sam who held his hand lightly.

“I liked it.”

“I cannot.” Prince Dean shook his head.

“Would you allow me to ask you a question?” 

“But of course.”

“You mention that a man and a woman are forbidden to look upon each others naked forms and are to suppress their urges in matters of physical love. Yet you admit that the union of two men is unheard of. Would it then mean that perhaps you and I do not fall under the same jurisdiction. And that these rules are set aside for a man and a lady.” Sam cocked an eyebrow at Dean who was now thinking deeply and fast. 

“But love is love. And carnal behaviour before marriage is not permitted.”

“Would you and I be permitted to marry?”

“No, of course not. It would-” Dean chuckled. 

“I do not believe for one moment that people adhere to these rules, in private two people can do whatever they choose. You told me you have no desire to marry a woman, even to appease your council and your people, so where does that leave you? A man of virtue until the day you die, a lonely virgin never having known the act of physical love.”

“You put forward a persuasive case, your highness.” Dean couldn’t help but smirk.

“I thank you, I thought it went well. But for now-” Sam sighed heavily. “-our rabbit is burning.” He chuckled.

“Oh blast it.” Dean said, turning to look at the half blackened rabbit on its spit. He walked toward the fire and turned the meat over. “We shall have to eat one side.” And they did but even the charred parts were edible, infused with the smoke of the oak wood that Dean had used to make the fire. Sam sat casually attired all evening, still keen to tempt the Prince of the North. As much as Prince Dean was eager to explore Samuel’s body, he was just happy just to look at him. For the moment. Sam’s hunting gear fitted him well and Dean was able to trace the lines and shape of his body through the heavy black leather. The outfit was clearly made to measure in the finest detail, since Sam’s chest was broad but his waist narrow, like that of a woman. His legs were long and slender but muscular and strong, Dean could see the muscle flex when Sam moved, even under the leather. But most of all and for his sins, he had spent a lot of time trying not to stare at Sam’s rear. For a start, he had never seen a man or anyone for that matter dressed in such tight clothing. It was like a second skin, contouring to his body. He knew from his anatomy studies and from seeing women in their long dresses that men and women were shaped differently but the Prince of the South had a rear like a girl, his back arched just above it and made it stick out as if it were some kind of invitation. Dean had thought it obscene and deep down, he liked that. 

Sam sucked on his blackened fingers, enjoying the oak-smoked critter then let out a soft burp of appreciation. 

“Remind me to burn our next rabbit.” He chuckled, standing up and reaching out for Dean to take his hand. “Come, let us watch our stars together.” Dean nodded, taking his hand. They laid side by side in a small clearing in the forest. The night sky was as black as Sam’s leather and scattered with bright white stars that twinkled back at them, as if to say hello. 

“Did you study the stars as a child?” Dean asked, holding   
Samuel’s hand.

“I did. And you?”

“The studies were offered but I am afraid I did not pay attention. I was more inclined toward physical learning.” 

“Oh? Do tell.” Sam grinned, laying on his side to look at Dean who in turn did the same.

“You are a very bad man.” Dean said, half joking. 

“I am the son of King Lucifer of House Hades, what else would I be?”

“You are nothing like him."

“I am not, it is true. I suppose that I am enjoying my freedom and your company, of course.” Sam grinned, lightly toying with Dean’s fingers.

“Is it as bad as you say, the south? Are the people oppressed?”

“Aye. My father is not a king, he rules but with an iron fist. It is odd, I feel more sad about my people now that I am with you. When I am at home, within The Black Castle, it is as if I do not care at all.”

“Sometimes a person must take a step back and watch to learn the truth.” Dean said solemnly and he could tell by the prince’s face that he was not enjoying the conversation.

The southern prince inhaled deeply then shook himself as if to rid his mind of his life with his father and changed tact completely.

"Do you pleasure yourself?" Sam asked casually. 

“Do I? Goodness, Sam. Where do you find these questions inside your mind?” Dean blushed, hiding his face with one hand. 

“Oh they are buried very deep, a little like yours.” Sam offered, an eyebrow cocked.

“Touché.” Dean smirked, dragging his hand down his face.

“So, do you?” Sam chuckled, for he was not to be silenced.

“Well, of course I do. I have to, there is discomfort if I do not.”

“That is the boring answer.” Sam teased. “The question is, do you enjoy it?” 

“Yes.” Dean said quickly. Still embarrassed. “Sometimes.” 

“Tell me, why only sometimes?” Sam continued to play with Dean’s fingers, stroking the webbing and wrapping a fist around his thumb. He pulled on it to coax out an answer.

“Because sometimes it is a necessity, other times it is pure need.” Dean inhaled sharply.

“And what do you think about?”

“A faceless boy who loves me.” Dean said softly, deciding there was little point in shying away from the conversation. Sam stroked Dean’s thumb gently. “Do you?”

“Do I what?” Sam said, wanting Dean to speak freely.

“Pleasure yourself.” The words felt strange and came out too fast.

“Aye. Daily.”

“Daily? Goodness.” Prince Dean chuckled lightly. 

“My father has an extensive library with books that your eyes would not believe.” Sam shifted closer to Dean. “Men stripped bare of all attire. There is an image of you in those books.”

“I beg your pardon.” Dean said, aghast. 

“No, forgive me. Not you, but it reminds me of you. A naked warrior, a prince standing on the body of a slayed dragon. He holds his sword aloft, a sword as impressive as Impala. He is triumphant. His body is thick like yours, soft curves and between his legs-” Sam sighed softly, watching Dean’s face as if waiting for permission to continue.

“Go on.”

“His meat is upright. Hard.” Sam muttered. “I desire that man. The brave prince, stripped bare.” Sam bit his lip. “And here he is.”  
Dean’s head was spinning as Sam spoke, there was little conflict left in his mind. His physical being had taken over everything.

“Touch me.” Dean whispered, subtly rolling his hips. Sam’s eyes remained locked with Dean’s as his hand slid lazily down the Southern princes’ chest and lightly cupped the hard meat between his legs, gripping it through his suede pants. Dean groaned, nodding at Sam who was tugging at the laces already and pulled them free. As Dean’s pants fell open, the laces crisscrossed along his length. It lifted from his body, a desperate throb, the head pushing between the silk cord. He released the moment Sam wrapped his long fingers around it. And with it came a deep grunt from within Dean’s chest, Sam whined like a dog. “I am sorry.” Dean groaned, frustrated by his treacherous virginal body.

“I am not.” Sam said softly which made Dean feel a little better but still highly aroused as he watched a long finger trail through the mess over his belly.

“I need more.” Dean whispered and Sam leaned over him, kissing him deeply, blindly untying Dean’s clothes, exposing his skin to the gentle nights breeze. Soon they were laying naked on the bare ground, wrapped around one another. Pushing and pulling, hands free to roam wherever they chose. Mouths locked together, hips rolling and rocking, their wet hard meat pressed together. Dean had never known anything like how he felt in his life. They released together, spilling over each other and laid in the moss and the dirt, kicked up by their elbows and feet, grubby and covered in sweat. The stars were veiled Dean noticed, as if to avert their eyes from a most private union.

“I love you.” Dean knew it, so soon but he knew it.

“And I love you.” 

The two princes continued their journey to the sea, passing through the small forest where they had set up camp and then out into the mountainous range which was once the home of the dragons. The mountain tops were snow capped and tinted purple on account of the rare heather that grew there come rain, snow or shine. Corpses of slain dragons lay around them, decaying, some nothing more than bone. Scales laid scattered on the ground, they were tough like metal and would never rot nor return to the earth like the flesh of a dragon. Sam was in complete awe.

“And you and your father, you slayed all of these in one night?” 

“Aye, indeed. The dragons were sleeping, when they awoke were stupid and slumbering. Dragons enjoyed sleep more than anything but it lowered their perceptions. My father and I were the only two stupid enough to take such a risk.” Dean chuckled.

“Brave.” Prince Samuel corrected.

“I believe that on occasion, stupidity and bravery were one of the same thing.” Dean grinned. The land that was once overrun by the dragons was beautiful, forever bathed in a pink and purple sunset that would never end. There was little there to sustain human life, no trees to speak of and no animals but it was a sight to behold and Sam insisted that they rest up there for the night. A fleeting glance was not enough, he wanted to drink it in. 

“Why is the sky pink?” Sam asked, looking up at the soft white clouds rolling across the salmon pink tinged sky. “I have only ever seen a sky this colour at sunset in the summer and even then, it is fleeting.”

“Legend has it that the sky was once as blue as you and I know it until the dragons took this land for their own. And slowly, over time the heat from their fiery breath burned the sky, just enough to colour it pink. Soothsayers warned that one day, the sky would burn orange and set on fire, spreading across both kingdoms. Engulfing them in flame.”

“So, one could say that you saved Harmony.” Sam grinned.

“One could but I have never trusted the words of mad old soothsayers.”

“Cease being modest. You saved us.” Sam chuckled.

“If that pleases you, then so be it.” Dean chuckled too. 

“My hero. My prince.”

The two princes slept side by side under the pink sky decorated with stars, lending themselves prettily to the rose-tinted hues. The journey to the sea would start the next day and both men were keen to test the true power of their steeds. They had idled up until that point and Dean was keen to show Sam Baby’s true power, since from over the mountains was nothing but plains of burnt grass and then the cliffs and a vast ocean of water.

“You cannot let me down today, Baby. I have a prince to impress and so do you.” Dean said, rubbing Baby’s snout lovingly. Sam helped Dean adjust the scabbard on his back to an angle. He could ride better at speed with the huge broad sword on his back resting against his saddle. 

“Do we have much distance to cover?” Sam asked once both men were mounted on their horses.

“I could not tell you the distance. Remember, the last time I came this way I was being tailed by the Mother Dragon. But beware, the land ends abruptly but I am sure Riot will stop before you fall.” Dean was in a playful and challenging mood.

“Aye. He has good instincts. I trust him.” Sam had barely finished speaking as Dean dug his heels into Baby’s flesh, let out a loud deep ‘Hah!’ and was off, the mares hooves kicking up a mixture of dirt and sand. The coast was near and there was a race to take part in. Sam followed a split second later, easily keeping up the pace. Their brief race within the forest was one of skill, daring and instinct, this was all about endurance and complete trust in their horses. Both men were low in their saddles as the air became thick with the taste of salt and the low squalling of sea birds circling above them, the ground beneath them was now sand, flat grassy dunes stretched out before them. Sam took the lead a little and Baby became distracted at the sight of Riot but she pushed on, passing the great stallion then falling back a little as the princes rode fast and hard side by side. Like heaven and hell, in sync. The land’s edge was close and the princes looked to one another, as if to dare. Who will stop first at the cliffs edge. Both horses reared to a stop, kicking up sand which was caught up in the sea breeze and tossed over the cliff face. Baby shook her head, praising herself at her instinct, nodding at her counterpart who whinnied loudly, rearing up on his hind legs. Prince Samuel let out a celebratory whoop and Dean chuckled, circling Baby away from the edge and rubbing her neck.

“Good girl. You did us proud.” Baby nodded her thanks.  
Dean dismounted, his legs trembling and his body pink, sheathed in sweat, jumpy with adrenaline. Sam joined him, pulling him into a breathless kiss. Baby and Riot knocked heads, resting their snouts against one another.

“I am very happy with a tie.” Sam said as he pulled away from his love. 

“As am I.” 

“I cannot imagine how you felt, riding so hard in the shadow of the Mother Dragon.”

“I did not think. It was pure instinct. I do not remember feeling fear nor trepidation. I put trust in Baby entirely.”

Sam grinned, stroking Baby’s neck then walked to the cliffs edge and peered over. As he looked down at the rocks below him, he could see the dragon. Her body still half in the water, decayed and rotten. Her tail however was untouched, laying across the craggy terrain, iridescent and stained with purple blood. He then cast his eyes across the water.

“I cannot believe what I am seeing. I have lived a life with nothing more than brooks and streams. I have never seen so much water.” He looked up. “Nor have I seen birds with yellow bills. It is as if I have found myself in another world entirely.”

“I admit, I did not stay to take it all in but I agree. It is beautiful.”  
The boys rested their horses for the first time in days, removing their saddles and gear they had been carrying. Baby reared up then jumped and shook her head playfully, Riot joined her. They wandered off together to explore.

“Do not stray too far!” Dean called out and both horses whinnied in reply.

“You know, they could be our children.” Samuel chuckled, laying out the ropes and hooks for their descent.

“I believe that they already are.” Dean grinned.


	6. Chapter Six

King Lucifer was at loggerheads with Lord Robert. The two princes had been gone for days with no word and with no clue as to where they had gone. Lord Robert was used to those of House Winchester disappearing for days on end on hunting trips. Both princes were grown men, he had argued. Not only that, more than capable. 

“I cannot spare any of the kings guard to go in search of two people who clearly do not want to be found.” Lord Robert said for what felt like the tenth time.

“It is my son. They are virtual strangers.” Lucifer snapped.

“Are you suggesting that my heir is untrustworthy, because he is the most honest and kind man I have ever known.” 

“What my king is suggesting, Lord Robert is that we do not wish to take advantage of your hospitality any longer than is agreeable.” Queen Anael was standing beside her husband. It had been the first time Lord Robert had heard her speak.

“Be quiet woman!” Lucifer yelled, the queen jumped.

“We realise that you are keen to return to The Black Castle but you are welcome here.” Lord Robert directed the sentiment to the queen.

“In that case, I shall send my guards out to bring them back.” Lucifer growled.

“Be my guest.”

The guards of House Hades were tough, brutal but stupid and subservient to a point of blind loyalty to their king. They were sent out to a forest they had never seen full of creatures they had no idea how to kill. It was safe to say that they were poorly equipped and had no idea where they were going. Nine hours later they returned with the remains of two guards who had been jumped by a pack of werewolves, indigenous only to the south. With no silver arrow tips to kill them, it had been bloody and all the remaining guards could do was flee. Throwing a few bloody limbs, a half a head and a torso at the feet of their king upon their return, they all refused to go back. Since King Lucifer was used to at least ten guards protecting him, he allowed them to stay and locked himself away in his chambers for the rest of the day to sulk.

*

Prince Samuel had been surprised when Dean had used magic to secure the hooks into the ground to prepare for their climb down. 

“I dabble.” Dean had said with a slightly wicked grin. “I do not wish to end my days, rotting like a dragon by the sea.” He had added. Samuel agreed that was fair.

The descent down had been simple. The weather was calm and the sea had stilled, a few curious seas birds had been waved away from their heads but soon they had reached the bottom and untied the rope from around their bodies. They wasted no time and Dean stood at very edge of the water, he unsheathed Impala, lifted the great sword above his head and sliced the tail from the decaying beast. The body slid slowly into the water, as if the spikes of her tail had been gripping onto the land.  
Sam stood quietly, admiring Prince Dean’s strength.

“I am quite aroused.” Sam said plainly. Dean blushed but did not respond as he watched the blood from the dragon soak into the blade. “It is quite something to watch a blade cut through dragon scales.” He said softly. Dean knelt next to the tail.

“Unsheathe your blade.” He said, looking up at Sam who drew his black sword from its scabbard. It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, highly polished with a red streak running along its length with a curious glass pommel. Dean bathed his hand in the pool of purple blood and rubbed his palm slowly down the blade. The metal absorbed the dragons blood and Sam felt the sword vibrate in his hand.

“Now you try.” Dean stood up, leaning against Impala. Sam lifted his sword and drove it through the centre of the tail, slicing it in half as if it were a side of beef.

“Incredible.” Sam gasped. “I am not sure I would want to share the blood we collect with another person.”

“We will not. This is for you and I only. The scales will be sent out to our apothecaries. The blood is ours.”

“You would do that, share this with me?”

“But of course. You are my true love, what’s mine is yours.” Dean said softly.

“In that case, can I have Impala?” Prince Samuel teased.

“Some of what is mine.” Dean chuckled. 

The two men strung up the two pieces of dragon tail and let the blood drain into vials they had carried with them, while slicing off the scales and wrapping them in cloth. What was left of the dragon was thrown into the sea. A sadness swept over the young prince of the north.

“I am melancholy.” Dean said softly, once they had climbed the wall and were back on dry land.

“We still have many days left until we return back. Please, let us enjoy the little time we have.” 

For the remaining few days, they slept under the stars, hunted and killed a pair of Vetala’s and ate more venison than they should have. They talked until dawn and napped during daylight, sleeping together naked at natures mercy. All in all, they had been gone for 9 long days.

*

“Where the hell have you been, boy!” Lord Robert yelled from the window of his chambers as Sam and Dean rode their horses casually into the courtyard.

“Your surrogate father has a casual and colourful vocabulary.” Sam teased, Dean chuckled and dismounted Baby who was taken immediately to the stables.

“It will take the old man an age to get down here, we should hide.” Dean grinned but the smiles were short-lived and soon King Lucifer, surrounded by what was left of his guards came marching across the courtyard, red faced, almost steaming from the ears. That was the last time Prince Dean saw his beloved Sam smile for almost two years.

TWO WEEKS LATER

Prince Dean had been persuaded with some urgency to leave his chambers to sit besides his ailing father. The prince had not eaten nor barely spoken to a soul since Prince Samuel’s cold departure back to the chilling oppressiveness of The Black Castle. They had not even said goodbye as whatever hold Lucifer had over his son, fell heavy on him, like a dark rain cloud. Sam had been rained upon and soaked with indifference toward the man he had claimed to love. And now King John was gravely ill. The wound from the dragon claw had never properly healed and in the past week, it had become infected, causing the kings blood to become poisoned and resulted in John suffering a massive stroke. Dean’s heart was already shattered and as he sat next to his unconscious father, he spoke to him. 

“Father. I do not wish to burden you as you move onto your next life but I know that you have never judged me. I must speak freely, for my heart is in pieces and my head aches with sorrow. I have fallen in love so deeply that I cannot stand it. He left me and now I feel I will never see him again. Do not forsake me, father. I know that my love is not the usual kind but at this point, I do not care. I do not care if this kingdom of ours comes crashing down around me. If I cannot be with him, I no longer wish to live.” Dean sobbed, his words felt selfish as the king breathed out his last breaths. “Please, I cannot lose you as well. I cannot bear it.” Dean held the kings hand, as his sobs became louder. Those gathered outside the room, Lord Robert, Lady Ellen and the kings apothecary Elkins entered the chambers to comfort the grief stricken prince. Elkins laid two fingers against the kings throat and on one last breath the king muttered.

“Find him.” Then slipped away to peace. Dean swallowed thickly at the words he had heard, not even noticing what was happening around him.

“The king is dead, long live the king.” Dean looked up and all three were on their knees, bowing to their new king. He glanced at Lord Robert and then at Lady Ellen who could not hold back the anguish she felt for the young king. She stood, moved toward him and swept him up into her arms before practically having to hold him upright to take him back to his chambers.  
King Henry Dean sat on the edge of his bed like a child waiting to have a scraped knee cleaned. He sucked in sobs and let his tears roll freely down his face. Lady Ellen dipped a cloth into the gold vanity bowl next to the open window, it was warm and rose scented. It reminded Dean of his lost prince. Lady Ellen wiped the warm, perfumed cloth over the kings face. 

“I have not done this since you fell face first into the rose bushes when you were 10.” She said softly, ignoring protocol, caring for the boy who was more like a son to her. “I know that you grieve for your father, he was a good man but you have been preparing for his passing for a good many months now. What ails your heart, my young king?”

“You would not understand.” The king said bitterly.

“Forgive me, your majesty.” Lady Ellen curtseyed quickly and made leave, Dean grabbed her arm.

“I am sorry, Aunt Ellen.” He muttered. “I would very much like a friend right now.” Lady Ellen nodded, sitting next to the distraught boy-king and listened.

Dean told her how Prince Samuel had changed the moment he had left the presence of King Lucifer. How they had laughed and talked. Raced their horses to the edge of Harmony, shared intimate moments and professed their love. He felt as if he had rambled and at times was barely audible as he cried so hard.

“My heart is shattered and it cannot be fixed.”

“Is that what your father said? Just before, I heard him say ‘find him’.”

“Aye. I confessed my love for a man to him and even on the brink of death, my father did not judge me.” Dean sobbed.

“And do you know why that is? It is because he knew true love himself and your father, he was a kind man and would not deny his own son the same kind of happiness. No matter whom he chose.”

“No, but I am king now. What of the royal line?”

“As you say, you are king now, and the king governs all. You are free to pass whichever laws you chose.” Lady Ellen smiled softly. “Even Uncle Bobby can’t argue with you about that.” She whispered. And Dean smiled, it was small but it came out in his eyes.

“I shall win him back. Rescue him from his father.” Dean said, now determined.

“No, you cannot. Not at least until your coronation is complete. And your duties, they-”

“Then reconvene the council and get the damn thing moving.” The king interjected, banging his fist on his thigh. “I am sorry for the bad word.” He muttered.

“Bad word, do you recall who my husband is?” She grinned.

Finally the king had something new in which to direct his energy. He had nothing much to do aside from attend fittings for his coronation regalia and the odd rehearsal or two. The rest of his time was spent planning his trip south and daydreaming about rescuing the handsome prince from the evil king. The king stood in his chambers on a low wooden stool in his full coronation regalia. Powder blue, gold and white. He had a new crown commissioned as he wished for his father to be laid to rest in the simple black stoned gold band he always wore so casually. He also spoke in private with the royal jeweller and had a second crown made to match his own. His was a heavy gold band with a scalloped edge, encrusted in pale blue sapphires and diamonds. The other, identical but for diamonds and pale pink rubies to match the dragon sky that Prince Samuel had loved so much. He would be by his side one day and the special crown would be locked away until that day.

“How do your garments feel, your majesty?” His tailor said.

“Heavy and it is odd that only yesterday I was in black and laying my father to rest. It is a strange life.”

“But it is your life.” The tailor said, bowing his head.

The day of the coronation started out splendidly. The weather was fine and dry, promising to be warm and bright. The new kings coat of arms had been sewn onto banners that hung in the throne room and his flag of pale blue sat at full mast upon the highest tower. More flags and bunting had been hung around the courtyard and on the external walls of the castle. And beyond, his people made their own decorations and laid out a special feast in celebration of their brave and handsome new king.   
The soon-to-be king was nervous as he stood once again on the low wooden stool being attended to by his tailor fixing some issues with his clothes. He felt uncomfortable and like a stuffed boar. He pulled at the high collar around his neck and sighed heavily. Lord Robert entered the room and bowed low.

“They are ready for you, your majesty.” 

“Thank you, you may leave us.” Dean said to the tailor, who bowed and scurried from the room. The king stepped down from the stool and turned to approach Lord Robert. “I feel like a fraud.”

“You must not. You have been trained for this job since you were first screaming for air. You will be a good king, a fair king, a kind king.”

“I do enjoy your bias, Bobby.” Dean said casually. Lord Robert chuckled and stepped aside, allowing the king to walk on his way to the throne room. Dean hadn’t realised that the coronation would be such a solemn affair and as he sat upon the throne, listening to ancient old men he had never seen in his life drone on in a language he had never heard of before, he made a mental note to make some long overdue changes. Lord Robert had been chosen to crown him, there had been a vote and the new king had fixed it so that it would be his surrogate father. There was no other whom Dean wanted. At first, Lord Robert had been mortified by the idea, it was an important job but soon warmed to it and took the whole thing very seriously.   
The newly commissioned crown sat sparkling on a pale blue velvet cushion trimmed with gold thread and was carried in by Lady Joanna. She looked beautiful in her heavy pink velvet gown, Dean had thought. In another life perhaps. Lord Robert stepped up as Lady Joanna reached the throne and he took the crown from the cushion. He lifted it over the kings head and spoke loudly, his booming voice bouncing off the throne room walls. 

“I crown thee, King Henry Dean of House Winchester, protector of the south and its peoples. Slayer of dragons, hunter and ruler of all.” The crown was set down slowly on Dean’s head. He had not worn it before, as it was forbidden. It was heavy, as if the weight of the kingdom had been placed on him entirely. “Long live the king.” Lord Robert added and the sentiment was echoed by the assembled inside the throne, filtering out into the courtyard and further until there was a roaring cheer from the people outside the castle walls. King Dean broke protocol once again by laughing at the cheer level of noise. And soon, the cheering from outside filtered back into the castle. They loved him already. He was then lead up to the highest balcony to greet his people, a blue curtain hung still for a moment, all eyes fixed upward, waiting for the first glimpse of their new king. The curtain fluttered and the king stepped onto the balcony. At that moment he was overcome. There were nothing but people as far as the eye could see. He waved a little stiffly at first, in shock that there were so many subjects under his charge. He felt humbled at once. Lord Robert stepped out from behind the curtain, he too a little shocked at the sight. Even King John had not pulled such a huge crowd. 

“The banquet, your majesty.” 

The king waved once more then turned to look at his old friend, father and most trusted confidant. 

“I wish to get very drunk.” The king said, bug eyed with disbelief.

*

To say the king was furious was putting it mildly. It had been two weeks since his coronation and there hadn’t been a single free moment for him to venture to the south to rescue his prince and to make matters worse, Lord Robert had broken some news to him that had utterly shattered his hope.

“Two years? I hope for your sake that this is some kind of elaborate prank.” The king yelled, the first time since his crowning that he had lost his temper, not unlike his father.

“I am serious, your majesty. A monarch must remain in his kingdom for the duration of two years after his coronation.”

“Why?”

“To prove to his people that his loyalty is to them, fleeing now, especially to the south would be seen as shirking your responsibilities.”

“Then pray, tell me why I was not informed of this before. Had I known I would be tied to the castle for 24 months, I would have gone south before my coronation.”

“Your majesty, King John was gravely ill, it would not have been wise for you to leave for a trip for so long. It would have been dangerous to leave the kingdom with no ruler. We had to ensure you were here upon the event of the kings death. It is tradition.”

“Tradition.” The king repeated, his nostrils flaring. “I cannot. I cannot wait two years to go to him. It has been too long already. How am I expected to rule over my people when I can barely think straight.” Dean was close to tears but held his own.

“There is nothing I can do, my hands are tied, your majesty. I suggest, you use the time wisely. To grow as a man, meet your people and learn to be a little more patient.” Lord Robert said plainly.

“How dare you address your king in such a manner. Do not forget your place, Lord Robert. Get out!” The king swept his hands across his desk, glass and paper and a lit candle, flying across room. “I said, get out!” He swallowed hard and slumped back into his chair, he sobbed quietly to himself and cursed his wretched life. What use are jewels, and riches if one has no true love to share them with. 

The king left his study, two guards who stood either side of the door to the room followed quietly twelve footsteps behind as was royal protocol. He walked down the many stone steps, in desperate need for air and to inhale the sweet scents of the rose garden beyond the courtyard. Anything that could make him feel as if he were close to his prince. He sat upon Lady Joanna’s flower swing, freshly adorned with pink roses, the king closed his eyes and inhaled softly and was taken back to the nine blissful days he had shared with his sweet boy Sam.

“Father is in a foul mood. I trust you are to blame.” Joanna was standing with a basket of flowers on her hip in front of the king as he opened his eyes. She was the only person in the entire castle who could get away with talking to him so informally.

“What did you do, Dean?”

“I shouted at him and told him to get out of my study.” The king muttered.

“Why?”

“Because he presented me with information that I did not like. Were you aware that a king must stay in his kingdom for two years after his becoming one?”

“Yes.” Joanna chuckled lightly. “Everyone knows that.”

“I did not.”

“Perhaps then you have regrets for not applying yourself to your academic studies.”

“I am in love and I am not permitted to seek out my love.” The king said, ignoring Joanna’s comment and cleverly covering his tracks by not using ‘he’.

“Is it Prince Samuel?” Joanna said, smiling knowingly at her friend.

“No, do not be so ridic-” The king sighed. “-yes. It is he.”

“I knew it.” Joanna giggled. 

“You knew nothing of the sort.”

“Did so. I have eyes. I saw you when you came back from wherever you two had been for nine days. I saw how you looked at him and how he looked at you. And I saw how sad you were when he left.”

“I am impressed.” Dean chuckled, shaking his head at her slyness.

“You do not have to be a spy to realise when a person is in love. You love him greatly, do you not?”

“Aye and it is all for nothing. He is under the power of King Lucifer. I cannot rescue him. Two years, Jo. What can I do?” 

“Come with me to my greenhouse. There are too many eyes and ears out here, for I have an idea.”

“You have a greenhouse?” The frowned but followed his friend.

“Aye, father commissioned the royal carpenters to build it for me. I have sprites living in it and glow worms.” She said excitedly. 

“You do?” The king chuckled, feeling a little more like himself. Joanna was always charming company.

“Since father will not permit me to hunt with the men, I captured some little supernatural beings for my own amusement. They think I’m using it purely to grow prize winning roses. You mustn’t tell.”

“You have the word of the king. So tell me-” Dean said, watching Joanna close the door to the greenhouse and batting a sprite away from his face. “-tell me your idea.”

“You must write to the prince. Every week until the two years is up. You must tell him how you feel and how you will come to him one day. Tell him your deepest feelings. It will make you feel better to share your thoughts, clear your head for your duties and give some hope to your prince. Oppressed by his father or not, he must be missing you terribly.”

“Joanna, you are perfection.” The king said, grabbing her face and kissing her nose. “I have big plans for you, huge one.” The king said with promise then ran to the greenhouse door. “Thank you, my dearest, most wonderful friend.” Joanna chuckled, rolled her eyes and threw a dead rose head at her king, her friend.

“Go away. You are being strange.” She teased.

And so the king wrote to Samuel every week, sending out a kings guard rather than a messenger to ensure the letters arrived there safe. After several months, as he had expected, he heard nothing back. But he did not let the silence deter him, he knew what he had shared with Samuel in the letters were personal and a conduit to let go of his anger, heartbreak and agony of his lost love.


	7. Chapter Seven

“I do not need a squire, Lord Gordon.” The king sighed and let his head fall backward, bored of the council meeting already. “And if anyone says the word ‘tradition’ I’m sending them to the dungeons.”

“We haven’t used the dungeons for centuries, your majesty.” Lord Rufus scoffed. The king let his head fall forward and glanced around the room under his thick lashes. 

“They can always be reopened.” He said seriously. 

“Just a trial period. We already have one picked out for you.” Lord Robert said cheerily. 

“Fine, but a trial of one week. Any other business?” The king said, daring anyone to speak up. Not a soul dared. “In that case, I have been remodelling my bed chamber and should really check on the progress.” 

The redesign of the kings chambers was put together with Prince Sam in mind. The room was extended and the king commissioned the royal carpenters to carve a new larger bed. A huge bathtub was made, gilded with 24 carat gold and fitted to new stone balcony, at the end of the bath was a shower which pumped water from the warm springs which ran across the courtyard. The funnel from which the water poured was as gold as the bath. The ‘balcony bathroom’ was open to the elements but secluded from prying eyes. A second balcony led off from the room to a high garden, which had been filled with pink roses, especially chosen for their strong scent. The roses then climbed the outside of the castle wall and in through the large opening and across the wall until they hung heavily over the bed. The king had used a little magic he had learned to train the roses to go where he pleased. And to keep the chambers private, lengths of deep pink ombre voile studded with diamonds hung from the ceiling to mimic the star filled dragon sky that Sam had adored.  
The king stood in the finished room, it had kept him occupied for many weeks and now it was complete he was able to spend time in there alone. And since the room was made for Sam, he felt closer to him and that gave him a little peace. Dean jumped at a sudden knock on his door.

“Yes?” The king called out.

“It is your squire, your majesty.”

“Come.” Dean rolled his eyes and turned around as the door opened. A young man stepped inside and bowed lowly, perhaps a little too low for the king’s liking and almost lost his balance.

“That is quite low enough, uh. What do I call you?”

“Garth, your majesty.”

“You are aware that this is a trial.”

“Yes, Lord Robert informed me so.” 

Garth was a tiny scrap of a man with a mop of unruly dark brown hair, huge eyes and a face like one of Joanna’s greenhouse sprites. 

“Go and fetch me some lemons, Garth.”

“Right away, your majesty.” Garth bowed again, taking three steps back so not to turn his back on his king and hurried from the room. The king chuckled to himself.

The courtyard surrounding the castle was vast, the spring that pumped water to the kings new shower ran around its entirety. Flowers grew tall and proud in the summer, and supplied great firs for the winter solstice celebrations. It also boasted the best orange, lemon and lime trees in all the kingdom. The royal citrus fruits were a popular delicacy on account of their sheer perfection. Only there was a slight problem with the lemons. They bit and it was all the kings fault. When Dean was 15, he first tried his hand at white magic, mostly to play pranks on servants and Uncle Bobby. But he did it also to try to improve life for those who lived in the castle. One day, he found a simple spell and chose to use it on the lemon trees. He loved the lemons but found them too sweet and too small. ‘They should be big and sharp.’ And so, he cast the spell and kind of got what he asked for. The next yield the following year, the lemons were huge, but when it came for the cook to pick them for her famous lemon meringue pie, they bit her. And by the time she had picked all of the fruit she needed, the poor woman was covered in bites and cuts. The lemons were ‘sharp’ indeed. The spell had gone a little wrong but no one could reverse it and so, lemon picking was done with care and besides once they were picked they stopped biting. But all was not lost, they turned out to be the most perfect lemons and as lesson to the young king, everything comes at a price.

Two hours later, the king was in his study reading about stars and planets and beyond when there was a knock at his door.

“Come.” The king set his book down, open and faced down on his desk. And in walked Garth, his face, arms and hands covered in angry looking ‘lemon bites’. Dean stifled a giggle then took pity on the poor squire.

“What do you wish for me to do with them, your majesty?”

“Go and find cook, make some lemonade. You may keep a bottle or two for yourself and take the rest of the evening off."

“But, your majesty. Your evening meal, I am meant to bring it to you at 8.”

“I will eat a cold supper tonight, leave it outside the door of my chambers.” The king nodded. Garth bowed, moving to leave the room. “Oh and Garth, you should really go and see Lady Ellen. She will treat your wounds.” The king bit his lip a little.

“Yes, your majesty and thank you, your majesty.”

“And, one more thing. It’s ‘your majesty’ upon first address then ‘Sir’ thereafter."  
“Of course. Forgive me, yo-Sir.” 

The king chuckled to himself as Garth hurried off to make enough lemonade to serve a glass to everyone in the kingdom. He was a little odd, but Dean liked him. He decided after one day, that Garth could stay. He tapped the cover of the book he was reading and checked the time. His evening meal was due in an hour and he had wanted to bathe and relax before then but there was something he had to do before all that could happen. It had become a habit and a mild obsession. A daily visit to the royal vault to look at the crown he had commissioned for Prince Samuel. It was quiet there and he was able sit in solitude for as long as he wanted, holding the crown and thinking deeply about his love.  
The vault was in the bowels of the castle, dungeons adjacent. Dark and damp but once inside and in amongst the many crowns and jewels owned by House Winchester it became a magical place. The vault was locked securely as expected but it was also guarded 24 hours a day by two specially selected Crown Protectors. Cesar and Jesse. And not only did they guard the vault every hour and day of the year, they lived down there. The men had been close childhood friends of Dean, the last he recalls ever having. They were both sons of Lords who spent a lot of time in court. Both Cesar and Jesse were expected to carry on the lordships but oddly chose a life in the kings guard and put their names forward to guard the vault. A lonely, grim job that nobody ever wanted to do. But Cesar and Jesse jumped at the chance.  
It was only when Dean started coming down to the vault on a daily basis to visit Sam’s crown that he realised that their intentions had been something else entirely. They were in love and had cleverly taken the lowly position so that they could be together every minute of the day. It had taken Dean’s love for Sam to realise their ruse and he loved them for it. The king never once mentioned their union but he had heard them speak as he had left on a few occasions. One conversation stuck out the most.

“If you were king, would you make me a crown like that?” Jesse asked Cesar.

“If I were king, I would make you a million.” Cesar had replied. 

The king spent only a few minutes in the vault, looking at the pretty gold and pink crown before setting it back on the cushion next to his own. He said goodnight to Cesar and Jesse then made his way back up to his chambers. Garth had left his evening meal of cold meats and salad on the table outside his door, just as he had asked. The king picked up the tray of food, was offered assistance by one of his guards, which he declined before slowly slipping into his room. Once inside he locked his door and stripped down to his underwear. He pulled the voile back and filled his new gilded bath with water and rose oil. The tub looked beautiful full of pink tinted water and even more so as breeze disturbed the roses that grew around the balcony, lifting loose petals from the blooms which were carried on the breeze and settled on the surface of the water. Dean closed his eyes and whispered Sam’s name. 

“I know you are here.” The king said softly and after stripping down, sunk into the hot water inhaling the scent that reminded him so much of his lost prince. Dean closed his eyes, allowing his imagination to send him away to place where he is with Sam and they are together. He imagined looking up at him, naked and under the warm flow of the shower surrounded by roses. He could remember every inch of Sam’s body, the curves and the muscles, the scent of his skin. And the odd scars on his back that Dean had been too shy to mention. The king took himself in his hand, he almost ached as he stroked himself and climaxed with a soft sigh. He opened his eyes and was sure Sam would be there but he was alone and laid back in the water, crying softly.

TWO YEARS LATER

House Hades was in uproar. King Lucifer had not shut up once about the young king. He saw King Henry Dean as a threat. Stronger, younger, handsome. Brave, kind and adored. Many of King Lucifer’s people had defected to the north in the hope of a better life. Their king did not care about them, he lived in the lap of luxury while his people starved and begged and died prematurely of preventable diseases. Prince Samuel had become even more subservient and cold than ever before, even joining the council whose main point of discussion was how to one day take The White Castle for themselves. Crowley was the ring leader of it all, relishing the power that Lucifer had given him. The former tailor had remodelled the dungeon, gleefully installing a fire pit under the floor of the cells and calling it The Burning Pit of Hades. Alongside Crowley was Balthazar who was shady, snake-like and untrustworthy, precisely the kings kind of council member. Even Rowena, Crowley’s witch of a mother was offered a seat and took it gladly.  
Prince Samuel though had become calculating and dangerous and now had little memory of his short time spent falling in love with the then Prince Dean. Every letter Dean had sent was thrown unopened into the Burning Pit. Lucifer had broken Sam utterly and put the pieces back together just to his liking. A strong, handsome heir with a penchant for war. 

“We should just take the castle.” Balthazar said lazily, all ease and charm.

“Are you some kind of simpleton?” King Lucifer yelled. “That pretty boys’ army is three times the size of ours! Fool!”

“You have a witch.” Balthazar shrugged.

“Have you seen the size of her?” Lucifer snapped glancing at Rowena.

“I’m nae getting involved in your wee arguments. You boys always go about this kind of thing the wrong way. It’s all swing your swords first, ask questions later. You have tae use strategy and cunning. You have tae plan.”

“I hate to agree with the woman, but she’s right.” Crowley said in his gruff tone. 

“My wee boy.” Rowena beamed proudly, patting the back of Crowley’s hand who then snatched it from the table. “Plan, take your time. And then strike.” She added, smiling sweetly.

“Hmm.” Lucifer frowned at Rowena from across the table. “What do you suggest?” Rowena stood up, only just a little taller than the men around her who were seated. 

“Well, first there is the wee matter of your people.” The witch left the comment hanging for a moment. Lucifer coaxed her on, waving a hand in the air. “They hate you.”

“They have no taste.” The king smirked.

“And your army is small because your people will nae fight for a king that they despise. Do you see the problem? Get the people on your side, feed the poor souls, build them homes, nurture.”

“I have not got time for that.”

“Make time. And make promises, you don’t have tae keep them. Make them think that you are going tae do right by them and they will putty in your hands.” Rowena beamed, her words sounding melodious. 

“So, do nice things but don’t?”

“Aye and be quick about it dearie, none of us are getting any younger.” Rowena rolled her eyes and swept out of the war room. “Men.” She muttered to herself. 

“You do realise that she’ll want something in return don’t you?” Crowley said, raising his eyebrows at the king. “I know her, she doesn’t offer her services for free.” 

“But her idea does have legs. Send out food to the poor, announce that King Lucifer cares for his people and proposes the building of new homes and untold benefits to those who sign up for my army.” The king said gleefully. 

“I would like to lead the army, father.” Prince Samuel said quietly.

“The job is yours. You have become quite the warrior.”

“I will do anything to serve my father and kingdom.” Samuel muttered as if hypnotised to respond in such a way. “The north will be ours.” 

What the council did not know was that when they would reach the brink of war, the King of the North would walk unwittingly into their clutches only to give Lucifer the most promising of advantages.

*

“You cannot, I repeat cannot walk into The Black Castle without protection.” Lord Robert said, looking up at his mounted king.

“I do not think even Lucifer is stupid enough to harm the King of the North, Lord Robert. We have trade with them.”

“Had. Had trade. We have not seen so much as a bag of wheat for many months.”

“Then perhaps I could use the time to parlay with him. Talk to him.”

“Love has made you foolish, boy.” The old man spat.

“Maybe so, but I am determined.”

“A determined fool.” 

“Hold your tongue, Uncle Bobby. The servants will hear.” King Dean smirked, happy to be finally setting off to rescue his prince.

“At least allow the kings guard to accompany you through the city.”

“Aye, that I will allow. I plan to ride around the southern city, Baby and I cloaked and in disguise. I do not wish to draw attention to my presence until I have reached the castle walls.” 

“Ride safe, dear boy.” Lord Robert said affectionately, worrying his bottom lip.

“I will, as always. I will return in five days.” The king nodded and as the gates of the castle wall rose up, he walked Baby out with a group of four mounted guards behind him. The journey was to be a long one, but he had the advantage of speed behind him. Baby had not been out for good run in a long while and he could feel her between his thighs, stocking up her adrenaline, almost trembling with keenness to let off some steam. The kings journey would be thus; he would travel through the outskirts of the city, through the small business area, passing blacksmiths and the royal bakers et al, then through the city proper. He was not keen to have to mingle with his people but Lord Robert advised it since they had not seen their king for a good many months, Dean believed it would slow his journey down. Lord Robert had to remind him who he was. And then once free from the city, his guards would leave him to ride through the felling forest which almost acted as the marker dividing north and south. Then finally once out onto the open fields he would ride hard, until he reached the small hamlets and farm houses before riding around the city of the south. It would be a long journey but one which was long awaited.

As expected the people of the northern city were thrilled to see their king. And word soon spread that he was there amongst them. He looked more handsome than ever, dressed in his trademark suede hunting gear but in an unusual powder blue, decorated with gold mail. Impala was strapped to his back and on his head, he wore a plain thin gold band. People called out to him, showed him their babies, wished him love and happiness and threw flowers at the feet of his beautiful black mare. Dean could not be more warmed and saw the outpouring of love as a good omen. Once through the city, the king turned to his guards.

“Please inform Lord Robert that I reached the felling forest in safety. Thank you for your protection, as always.”

“Yes, your majesty.” The guards nodded and spoke in unison before turning back and leaving their king alone. The felling forest was not a dangerous place unless you got hit by a falling tree. It was free of wildlife and the supernatural, purely man-made for the purpose of growing trees to build homes and furniture. He rode Baby hard through the forest, a reminder of when he and Prince Samuel raced together those many months ago. It was exhilarating and by appointment but entirely unprecedented he slept overnight in the small cottage of the Fell Ranger, known only as Ranger Rick. A man of the woods, dopey but kind and keen to serve his king. 

Dean left the simple but homely hospitality of Ranger Rick at dawn, riding Baby through the wheat and barley fields which as he rode, noticed looked dead and untended. He made a mental note to bring this matter up with King Lucifer. He spent a night under the stars, sleeping with Baby by his side. Although the king could hardly sleep, since tomorrow would be the day that he finally set his eyes upon his sweet prince. Baby had never been the most conspicuous of horses. Much larger, in almost supernatural proportions than regular horses. She was jet black and groomed with such perfection that she almost shone. Her leather work and saddle were black and upon the seat were the kings initials, D.W carved into the thick leather during a moment of boredom as a child. The metal work was silver, highly polished and in juxtaposition to the kings preference of gold. But Dean saw Baby as her own person and the silver set off her black shiny coat beautifully. Her mane had always been let free to fly, the king liked watching it catch the wind when they rode together but recently he had taken to braiding it, just like Sam’s long hair. The look made her stand out and helped make her sleeker and faster.

King Dean threw a simple black cloak over his own expensive clothes and pulled the hood over his head. Another was laid over his horse. He walked Baby tentatively around the city which he could not help but notice looked ramshackle and as if ravaged by war. There was no hubbub nor noise, not shouts from playing children, no music filtering out from the taverns. It was if it were dead. The Black Castle loomed in the distance, a great dark beast straddling the landscape. Impressively big but ugly and topped with the black and red pitchfork sigil of House Hades. The sight made the kings skin crawl and on closer inspection, the walls of the castle looked shiny as if they were bleeding. As the king approached the outer wall, he could see the dopey guards suddenly standing to attention as the stranger rode up to the gates.

“Who goes there?!” A guard yelled. King Dean threw off his hood.

“King Henry Dean of House Winchester and of the North.” Dean yelled back. The solid iron gates lifted up slowly and the king was granted passage into the grounds. There was no hot spring stream, nor rose gardens just a large quadrangle, all sharp angles and black polished stone. It gave Dean the creeps. Word soon got out that the King of the North had wandered into the castle and the place was abuzz with activity. Little did the king know that behind the castle, war was being prepared. New soldiers were being trained, weapons were being forged and plans were being drawn to take his kingdom.


	8. Chapter Eight

“Come, the king awaits you.” A huge burly guard with a mean, ruddy face stepped up as Dean dismounted Baby. He did not address the monarch correctly but the king let the faux pas slide. “Your horse will be taken care of. Water and food.” The guard bowed. Dean was lead into the castle, all dark walls lined with flaming torches and too many banners and sigils for his taste. 

King Lucifer was sitting on his throne looking excitable and fidgety as Dean walked in, not a soul took it upon themselves to announce him correctly so he walked straight up to Lucifer and bowed low.

“Your majesty.” King Dean said before rising slowly.

“And I suppose now, the sentiment should be returned, your majesty.” Lucifer looked meaner from the last time Dean had seen him, fatter around the middle too. 

“Indeed, I am still finding my feet.” Dean smiled.

“To be sure, you travel all this way without even so much as a single guard. Foolish or brave, I cannot decide.” 

“My visit is all but a fleeting one, sir. I wish to see your son. Prince Samuel.”

“Oh, is that so, pray why do you come all this way to seek out my heir?” Lucifer was biding his time with idle chitchat. 

“My business with him is private, sir.”

“Why would I want to speak with you?” A voice came from behind him. Sam. The king turned on his heels, his black cloak swinging around his legs.

“Sam.” He said softly but he did not fully recognise the boy stood in front of him. It was Sam of course, but he was slimmer, his hair had been cut shorter, tied back tightly into a small ponytail which sat at the nape of his neck. He looked severe and cold. The prince walked around the king slowly, eying him suspiciously. “It’s me, Dean.” The king swallowed thickly, as he did not like the eyes that were on him. They once looked upon him with love and affection. Now they were dead and soulless.  
“Oh Samuel. Stop playing with your food. Seize him!” The moment happened so fast, Sam had drawn his sword and the blade was pressed against the kings throat. From behind him two guards grabbed his arms and tore off his cloak, drawing Impala from its scabbard on his back.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Dean yelled and Sam pressed the blade closer against the kings neck, ever so slightly, he bled. “Sammy, please.” Dean sobbed but Sam was gone.

“Oh, you know.” King Lucifer said, jumping from his throne and strolling toward the incapacitated northern king. “I woke up this morning and I thought to myself. Today is going to be a good day.” Lucifer snatched Impala from the guards hand. “I was going to go to war, kill a few northerners and capture their king.”

“War?” Dean hissed, the pain from Sam’s blade troubling him.

“But, like some kind of a twisted miracle, you walk into the spiders web. All by yourself. I say fool.” Lucifer held the huge broad sword with both hands, he struggled with it at first, not used to its weight. “My my, what a sword. And infused with the blood of the Mother Dragon too, so I am told.”

“Sam.” Dean begged before noticing the unusual pommel on the princes sword. It had caught his eye when they had been together. It was glass, most impractical for the pommel of a sword but he noticed now that inside there were what looked like silvery clouds floating within it. As he looked closer it was almost as if the ‘clouds’ were struggling to be released. Knowing his magic and thinking fast, Dean pulled out a dagger from inside his jacket and used the metal hilt to smash the glass pommel. The clouds escaped and flashed out a bright white light. Sam fell back, losing grip on his own sword which Dean grabbed before it hit the floor, he swung it around his head and half beheaded one of the two useless guards who were holding him. Lucifer retreated, not a combat fighter and watched as Sam fell to his knees as the white cloud filtered into his mouth. The young prince gasped loudly, holding his throat. King Dean held Sam’s sword aloft, threatening anyone who dared to approach him.

“Oh, see now you’ve spoiled the game.” Lucifer said, like a petulant child. But his game proper was about to begin. Dean let his guard down, and knelt next to Sam who looked up slowly.

“Dean, is it really you?” The prince said softly.

“Aye, it is me, my love.” Dean smiled at his prince and Sam smiled back at his king.

“End this.” King Lucifer yelled and once again, Dean and this time Sam were pinned down onto their knees by four guards. Sam’s sword was kicked out of Dean’s hand which clattered onto the floor. Lucifer stood in front of his throne, toying with Impala.

“There is no need for this, Lucifer.” Dean spat.

“But there is every need, pretty boy king. You broke my son. I had his adorable, sappy little soul all locked up, nice and safe and you broke him! Idiot! And you came here, alone to rescue him no doubt. Did you not?” Dean remained silent. “Answer me!” 

“Yes and I have."

“Well, you did a really, really bad job at it. Three out of ten, Crowley?”

“Two, at a push, your majesty.” Crowley smirked.

Lucifer held the broad sword up and sighed happily.

“This is quite a beast, shall we find out just how much of beast it is?” After a beat, Lucifer swung the sword and beheaded his silent, seated queen. One swing. The pretty queens head rolled across the floor and Sam let out the most heartbroken scream Dean had ever heard.

“Mother!” Sam yelled, sobbing loudly.

“Oh shut up, fool. She wasn’t your mother. She was useless. I would have been more successful in producing an heir if I had copulated with a sack of potatoes. No, she wasn’t your mother.” Lucifer approached the distressed prince and king. He knelt in front of them looking too gleeful for his own good. “Would you like to meet your mummy?” He hissed in Sam’s face which was all grief and confusion. “Bring out the mare!” Lucifer yelled, before standing and shooting a glance of upper-handedness at King Dean. The room fell silent for what felt like a lifetime but the silence was soon filled with the cries of a women who was thrown bound on the floor in front of the two boys. King Dean blinked slowly as he looked at the woman, blonde, older than he had remembered but still beautiful.

“Mother?” Dean whispered softly. He shot a look at Lucifer who was grinning broadly. “You took her.” He muttered in shock.

“Aye, that was me.” Lucifer shrugged humbly as if he had done something wonderful. “You see, your father had it all. The fancy castle, the love of his people and a beautiful wife who gave him a handsome son. And I thought ‘Hm I would not mind a little of what he has’ and so, I took it. That sap Anael, pretty yes. Beautiful some would say but she was all dead inside.” Lucifer pulled a face as if the poor woman’s situation was disgusting to him. “To end, you are brothers. Half, aye but brothers and to think, you two morons have been rolling around, bumping your meat. And you think I’m immoral.”

Dean could not help but let out a pained sob, he glanced at Sam who was crying quietly and then at his mother who was smiling at him, for it had been many years since she had looked upon her sons precious green eyes. Lucifer licked his lips, flared his nostrils and without so much as a warning, drove Impala into Mary’s head. Even his assembled court gasped at his cruelty.

“That was a wee step too far.” Rowena muttered into Crowley’s ear a King Dean screamed out in pain.

The king and his prince became silent and numb as Lucifer threw Impala on the floor and sat once again upon his throne. 

“Strip them both, take them to the Burning Pit.” Lucifer said, waving his hand lazily as if he were now bored. “And have that horse stripped for parts. Meat, glue, whatever.”

“No!” Dean screamed. “No, you bastard!” He fought against the guards as he and Sam were dragged away, helpless. Lucifer did nothing more than raise his eyebrows at the broken king.

“Clean up this mess.” Lucifer said, yawning then glancing around at his council and court who were all frozen to the spot with utter shock. “What, what did I do?”

Neither Sam nor Dean could find the energy put up a fight or to speak as they were taken into a cold, dank room and stripped naked. Their clothing was cut from their bodies and both were branded with the sigil of House Hades. They were then drenched with ice cold water and shackled in adjoining cells. Dean could barely look at Sam who was falling in and out of consciousness after receiving a blow to the head for spitting at one of the guards. He could not begin to process everything that had happened, he went from a screaming anger which riled the guards who threw more water over him from outside of his cell, to bitter sadness to some kind of joy. Joy at seeing Sam and for one last time, looking into the eyes of his lost mother. And here they were, the prince and the king. Lovers, brothers. But it was all for nothing as Dean made peace with himself that he would die there and that he had known love. Another drenching with ice filled water woke both Sam and Dean up with watery gasps. A man was stood outside the cells, smiling at them.

“Hello, boys.” Crowley grinned at them. “It’s funny how deeply a person can shock another. I thought I knew Lucifer very well, but as it turns out. He’s even more sadistic than I had ever imagined. My condolences on the loss of your mothers.”

“Don’t talk to me. Or him.” Dean growled. 

“Oh, I haven’t come here for a chat over tea and cakes. No. I’ve come to turn up the heat.” Crowley clicked his fingers and Dean heard what sounded like a furnace firing up and then he felt the heat rise up from under him. “Lucifer has had his fun. Doesn’t need you. See you in another life.”

Both Sam and Dean screamed as the floor became hot, climbing the bars to escape the heat. The king glanced at Sam, who looked back at him. There was love there, there were apologies then there was nothing.

*  
The sun dappled through the trees, like the early warm weather of spring. Birds sung melodiously and underneath the ground felt soft and warm. King Dean opened his eyes, the light pained him at first but soon all he could see was green and blue and he felt cool and pain free. Slowly he sat up, still naked except for a white sheet covering his modesty. He looked around him and there next to him, was Sam. Asleep, peaceful and unharmed. He did not know whether he was dreaming or that he was now living in the after life but he did not care. Sam opened his eyes slowly and saw Dean looking down at him.

“Are we alive?” 

“I do not know, but we are together, my love."

Sam sat up, rubbing his eyes and just as confused as his king.

“Where are we?”

“I am unsure.” Dean turned around and noticed that he and Sam were sitting on the brightest green moss he had ever seen, in a perfect circle were faerie stones jutting up from the moss.

“This is a faerie circle.” Sam said, almost amused.

“It cannot be, faeries have not been seen for many hundreds of years. Perhaps we have joined them in the afterlife.”

Sam swallowed thickly, looking at Dean shyly.

“Dean, we are brothers.” He said sadly.

“Aye.” Dean nodded and smiled weakly but reached out to Sam and ran a hand over his shoulder. He paused for a moment, noticing a scar on his skin. A hand print. 

“What is it?” Sam frowned.

“That scar.”

Sam looked at his shoulder then back at Dean.

“You have one too.” He said, stroking Dean’s arm. 

At that moment the ground beneath them begun to vibrate, the boys braced their hands against the earth and then there was a flash of white light. All was calm for a moment until a man, simply dressed in a white smock over which he wore a light brown waistcoat. He looked down on them seriously but there was no threat in his eyes.

“Who are you?’ Sam stammered.

“I’m the one gripped you both tight and raised you from perdition.” The man said softly, hos tone deep and calming. He smiled at them with ice blue eyes and a shock of thick brown hair. “My name is Castiel, I am a faerie, my Father sent me to rescue you both.” 

“A faerie.” Dean laughed. “There has been no such thing for centuries.”

“And yet here you are in the company of two.”

“Two?” Dean looked back, from side to side and past Castiel.

The faerie threw his eyes in Sam’s direction. 

“Although Sam is an abomination since he was sired by a faerie and a human.” Castiel said plainly.

“Lucifer is a faerie?” Sam was amused and a little confused.

“And I am?”

Castiel sat down neatly in front of the two boys. He told them a tale.

“My father is what you might call a divine being. He is not rich like a king, nor does he wish to be worshipped like a God. He is the caretaker of your land and its surrounding oceans. Many millenia ago he put together the land that you live upon. It was home for the faeries, his children. But as he became more frivolous with his embellishments he realised that the faeries had no use for the vast species of flora and fauna he had furnished the land with. And so, the faeries retreated to this place, the hidden forest. As time and evolution went on and man as you know him began to walk the earth, father wanted to help more than ever. Filling ravines and deep empty voids with water for you drink, trees to give you shelter and fire to keep you warm. In words of many, you were spoiled by him and yet he never once walked the earth amongst you to ask for thanks. But he spent so much time and effort providing man with the stepping stones to progress, some faeries believed that he had neglected his own.   
A small group of faeries lead by Lucifer wanted to enjoy the spoils that the humans had been given by their own kin. And soon they were taking vessels of humans so they could walk amongst them but that wasn’t enough for Lucifer. He wanted to take the land back for all faeries and so, he stole the vessel of a simple man called Nicholas, slaughtered his family and took his time. Waiting to take a seat of power where he could finally oppress the humans and take what he believed was rightfully his.” Castiel turned to Sam, addressing him directly. “He wanted a child like you who would carry on the line and help the faeries win back their land. But of course, Lucifer was only one of a handful who wanted this. Most of us live in peace and are quite happy.” Castiel smiled softly.

“I do not understand. You called me an abomination, why so? Now that I have my right mind back, I am no different to my king.” Sam smiled at Dean, curling his fingers around his hand.

“It is true, you are as much of a man as King Dean but you have dormant powers, which, if they are not taught and nurtured could be dangerous.” Castiel nodded then added. “You also have wings.” 

“I ha-” Sam could not help himself, he laughed loudly.

“My love, it all makes sense. The scars on your back.” Dean said, sliding a hand over Sam’s back lightly.

“Are where Lucifer cut off your wings.” Castiel finished gravely. “I realise it must be a lot to take in. Too much. I saw what Lucifer did to your mothers’. Please do not think for one moment that is how faeries behave.” 

“Castiel.” Sam said softly. “You just said to me ‘you have wings’.”

“Oh yes, when I gripped you both and pulled you out of the Burning Pit of Hades, my pure touch healed you both. There are no brands, nor cuts and bruises. My hand print will fade over time. And, you have your wings back, Prince Samuel.”

“This is silly.” Sam chuckled, one arm reaching across his chest and slapping his back, there were no scars any more but also no wings.

“How do we know to trust you?” King Dean eyed Castiel suspiciously. “How do we know that this is not one of Lucifer’s mean tricks?” 

“You can only take my words as you hear them. I can offer no more proof than that.” Castiel smiled then turned to Sam.  
“Would you like assistance with your wings?”

Sam glanced at his king, worrying his bottom lip. Dean nodded, as much as what Castiel had told him seemed ridiculous he felt safer than he had in many days. Castiel asked Sam to sit up straight and close his eyes.

“Will is one part of the process, once learned it will as simple to you as breathing. Part two, you may feel a little unnatural at first but along with your will, your wings will appear. So, concentrate and push out your upper chest but keep your back straight.” Castiel instructed. Dean watched the prince intensely. Sam kept his eyes closed, frowned a little and pushed out chest. Nothing happened at first but Dean, his hand still around Sam’s squeezed his fingers lightly with encouragement and suddenly a set of light green wings unfurled themselves from Sam’s back. Dean gasped in amazement and chuckled as green dust fell from them and over his shoulder. It settled for a moment before disappearing. 

“Beautiful.” Dean whispered. Sam opened his eyes, blinking slowly then turned to try and see them.

“Is this real life?” Sam frowned, catching a brief glimpse of them over his shoulder.

“You will become used to them.” Castiel nodded. “But for now, you must tuck them away.”

“And how do I do that?”

“Shake.” Castiel smiled. And so Sam shook his body, decorating Dean with more green dust and the wings tucked themselves away. “Now, I shall take you home to The White Castle. There is no time to lose, Lucifer plans to strike any day now and your people need you.”

“And what of you?” Dean said, still reeling from the strange and saddening events.

“Call for me and I will come.” Castiel said plainly and then within a split second, Sam and Dean found themselves wrapped in white sheets and standing alone in the White Castle courtyard.  
Despite Castiel healing them both from the scars and injuries they had from their short time at The Black Castle, the boys fell to their knees exhausted and soon servants and staff were rushing to their aide, taking them inside to safety. They were taken to Lady Ellen’s study where she practiced her medicine. Both were laid down on a small cot each but Dean sat up, keen to call a council meeting.

“No, your majesty.” Lady Ellen said, averting her eyes from her king’s state of undress, placing a blanket around him.

“I am just tired, Ellen. There is a war coming and I need to speak to Lord Robert.” 

Ellen laughed at first but King Dean was all seriousness. 

“What happened there?” Ellen asked gravely.

“I do not wish to talk about it yet and you would not want to know. Send Garth to find clothes for me and for Prince Sam and-”

“I am not a prince, not anymore.” Sam said quietly. He was laying in his cot, curled up and staring at nothing in particular.

“You are, you are my Prince. And do not allow another soul tell you otherwise.” Dean said softly. Sam continued to lay quietly.

“He is in shock, sir. I will care for him.” Lady Ellen nodded and it was then that she first noticed the love her king had in his eyes for this lost prince. She called for Garth, who had been crawling the walls with boredom while the king had been away and was soon bringing in clothes and helping Dean to dress. The king knelt by Sam’s cot, slid a hand over his hair and kissed his forehead lightly.

“I will return, my love.” Dean whispered then left the room with haste Garth a few steps behind and made his way to the council chambers.

The king had heard snatches of conversation when he and Sam had been taken to Lady Ellen’s study, words that did not make sense to him. He was already seated when the members of the council walked in, all looking relieved that he was safe and surprised that he had beaten them to it for once. Lord Robert disliked how grave the king looked and Dean could tell that he had news himself to impart. They were joined also by the head of the King’s Guard, General Benjamin Lafitte. He had defected from the south many years ago and had worked his way up to lead the Northern Army. He had been a close ally to King John and did not seem to age a day but it was ignored since he was loyal and grateful for his position.  
The king stood up and immediately decided to not dillydally with details.

“We are at war. King Lucifer has built an army to rival ours, if not overshadow it. We must prepare to fight.” King Dean looked at each of the faces in turn. The old men looked grave, Benjamin sat with his back straight, keen to listen and to rally his men to fight for the king. “Three days ago, when I left for-” The king was interrupted by a cough that came from Lord Robert. “-yes?”

“Forgive me, your majesty. But you have been gone for ten days.” Lord Robert said plainly. The king chuckled.

“Ten days? Do not be ridiculous, Lord Robert.”

“Sir, we sent out a search party but our men did not return. A group of a dozen.”

“Is this true?” Dean looked at Benjamin for answers.

“It is, your majesty. I put the group together myself. They were good men, but there has been no word from them for almost a week.”

“If I may ask, sir. What happened there?” Lord Rufus asked tentatively as he could see pain in the king’s eyes. Dean sat and relayed the tale to a collection of shocked faces.

How Prince Sam been controlled with his true mind locked away by his father. The brutal death of the beautiful Queen Anael. The king and prince’s subsequent capture and of course how Queen Mary had finally been found but king could not save her. He could not bring himself to talk of Baby’s fate nor admit that they had been rescued by a faerie. 

“Prince Samuel is my brother. We share the same mother.” The king saw Lord Robert shift uncomfortably in his seat, for he knew the true feelings the king had for the prince. “It does not change one thing.” The king said firmly, all Lord Robert could do was nod. The council were often at loggerheads with the young king but all agreed that Lucifer had to be stopped. The council could barely take in so much grave news all at once but they were ever professional and were soon dusting off the war room which had been dormant and silent for many years. They agreed to meet in an hours time while the room was prepared. Dean paid a visit to his prince.

Sam looked a little better and was sitting up sipping Lady Ellen’s special calming tea laced with lavender and honey. He smiled softly at his king.

“You look well, my love.” Dean said, sitting on the cot.

“Lady Ellen is quite the apothecary. This is my third cup of her tea. I have no idea what is in it but it is quite moreish.” He said sleepily. Dean chuckled lightly. “I want to fight alongside you, your majesty.” Sam whispered.

“I cannot allow it. I must keep you safe.”

“Dean, you may be many things to me but you are not my keeper. I am not made of glass, I have as much reason to bring Lucifer down as you do.”

“Of course.” The king nodded and of course agreed. “Are you well enough to come to the war room with me?”

“Aye, indeed. But I have no clothes.”

“Do not worry, I have Garth altering some garments of mine for you.”

“Garth?”

“Yes, my squire.” Dean chuckled.

“You have a squire? My, things have changed.” Sam smirked remembering how determined young prince Dean had been not follow protocol. 

“I was persuaded. And I admit that the boy is keen and helpful.”

“It must be good to be king.” Sam nodded, draining his cup.

“At this point in time, it is the worst job in the land.”

With Sam attired in an outfit in lilac suede, chosen by the king who vowed never see his beautiful boy in black ever again, the king and the prince walked side by side to the war room. The central piece of the room was a vast wooden table painted with a huge map of Harmony in great detail. As determined as the king was, his heart felt heavy and was praying for it all to be over as soon as possible. Prince Sam would be the key to their strategy since he knew The Black Castle well and King Lucifer’s army even better. The council were a little nervous of the prince and not entirely convinced that he was the right person to lead but as he spoke, he settled their doubts. He showed leadership, knowledge and heart.

“Lucifer is clever.” Sam said, choosing to forgo the words ‘father’ and ‘king’, to him he was just now a person, a faerie that need crushing under the foot of the north. “He has taken land behind the castle, land that is free and does not belong to the kingdom of the south. There he set up a forgery for weapons, an armory to store them and expanded his army by recruiting more people, tempting them with false spoils.”

“He has blackmailed his own people to fight for him?” Lord Robert asked, then added. “Your highness.” The young prince waved the address away.

“Aye, indeed. He knows the northern army is vast and strong. He needed to increase his numbers but the men are weak and are not inclined to fight for the same reasons as their king. They will fight for food and shelter, to save their families. But of course, Lucifer has no intention of rewarding them. They are to him, expendable, less people to concern himself with. He wants the north, that is his only focus.” 

Dean was impressed and suddenly felt the urge to grab Sam’s face and kiss him with passion, he closed his eyes to will the thoughts away.

“And what of magic, your highness.” Lord Rufus asked, moving around the table placing a small wooden effigy of King Lucifer to the rear of The Black Castle. “I know that faeries possess great power.”

“We know only that he has the power to rip a mind from a persons body.” Sam nodded. “I think that is all we need to know.” He shivered as he spoke but shook the feeling away. 

“Is that all?” Lord Rufus scoffed.

“The prince has suffered it all of his life, Lord Rufus. To have your very essence taken against your will. Would you enjoy that?” The king snapped. 

“Forgive me, your majesty, your highness.” Lord Rufus said solemnly.

“We must focus on what Lucifer plans now, not what he has done. There is no point dwelling on his past atrocities. It clouds a man’s judgment and puts him in a precarious position.” Sam was straightforward and had raised his voice a little.

“I would be honoured to fight alongside you, your highness.” Benjamin said, standing to attention. 

“Then let us plan our first strike. Benjamin, gather your men together and call in the reserves from the city.” The king ordered. Benjamin nodded and left the war room. 

“Dean, Lucifer’s army now outnumbers ours by many hundreds.” Sam said, informally addressing his love. But war makes a monarch care less about informality and Dean smiled briefly at the name. 

“I have an idea and you will think me mad but it just may work.” Dean added and made a plan in his head.

*

“The king has gone mad.” Lord Rufus said later to Lord Robert who were strolling in the courtyard as the sun was setting.

“I trust him.” 

“But the question is, ‘Uncle Bobby’. Do you trust those he wants to fight alongside us?”


	9. Chapter Nine

The king sat with the prince in the war room for many hours talking over their strategies and planning their trip further north to attempt the recruit monsters. The supernatural beings the king had enjoyed to hunt for many years.

“It will be a dangerous mission. Do you think they will join us?” Sam asked, once again drinking Lady Ellen’s fragrant tea.

“The war will affect them gravely too, all we can do is parlay with them and hope for the best. Nothing in life is certain.”

“Not nothing, De.” Sam said softly, now weary and keen to sleep.

The king stood up and held a hand out to Sam, he himself a little sleepy on account of the tea. 

“Come, I had planned to show you once all this is over but who knows who will live to enjoy it.” Dean said sadly but relishing every second just breathing the same air as his prince.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To our chambers.” 

As was necessary in the heightened state of the threat of war, four guards walked behind the prince and the king as they climbed the stone steps up to the kings private quarters which contained his bed chambers, study and his library which he rarely used. Once outside the chambers, the king turned to his guards. 

“Please inform my squire that he is no longer needed this night.” The guards nodded, two left to impart the message and two remained to guard their king. Dean opened the door to his bed chambers and allowed Sam to step inside first. The White Castle had been quite a change for Prince Sam, used to the black bleeding walls of his former home. The kings castle was a pretty assault on the senses. The door was shut and locked by the king who watched Sam take in the delightful room. Candles were set around the room as dusk had been and gone, the roses which crept from outside in breathed out their heavenly scent and for the first time in a long time the king allowed himself to feel peaceful.

“It is beautiful.” Sam whispered.

“I did it for you, my love.” Dean said, moving behind Sam and pushing his arms around his body, holding him tight. “The roses reminded me of you. I knew that I would have you again.” Sam turned around in Dean’s arms and kissed him. The first time in over two years that their lips had met. It felt natural and right, as if there had been no passage of time apart. Dean pulled away, swiping his bottom lip with his tongue, lapping up the taste of Sam’s mouth.

“Bathe with me.” Dean said softly. “Fulfill my dreams.” He left Sam’s embrace, drawing back the glittering voile and filled the golden bathtub with water, adding to it floral scented oils. They undressed together and each in turn sunk into the warm water. Dean sat up with Sam laying on his chest, comfortably on his side so he could look up at his king. 

“I feel as if I am dreaming.” Sam said softly, stroking Dean’s chest.

“As do I. But it is real and it is ours.” Dean kissed Sam deeply, wrapping his legs around Sam’s thighs and pulling him close. Water tumbled over the edge of the tub as the moment became more heated. Sam felt hard and keen against Dean’s body as their hands joined, wrapping around both of their shafts. Dean grunted lowly as their hips rocked together, their mouths open, tongues pressed together. Tasting. Sam released first and Dean followed shortly, it did nothing to quell their need for one another. And soon both were damp and writhing on their bed.  
“I did not know anything could feel this way.” Dean muttered as he was laid back by Sam’s large hands, the prince moved over his body and sat on his thighs. Dean let bliss in after so many months of despair and heartbreak.

“Nor I, my love.” Sam closed his eyes, pushed his chest out and allowed his wings to unfurl from behind him. Dean gasped, taking in the sight of Sam’s body covered in droplets of water, slick with oil from the bath, green dust dissipating around them both.

“Beautiful.” 

Sam opened his eyes, a small green light faded from them swapped for a look more heated.

“May I touch, is it forbidden?” Dean’s voice was a whisper.

“I do not know, try.”

Dean reached up with a tentative hand, Sam leaned down, his wings curled around his shoulders. The king ran the tips of his fingers along the edge of one wing which vibrated lightly and made Sam shudder. Dean snatched his hand away.

“Pain?”

“The opposite entirely.” Sam said on a whine as he pushed his chest against Dean’s body and captured his lips with his own. It was a needy kiss, the king felt the need against his stomach, hard and keen. They pushed and pulled, gripped and tugged until calling out each others names and marking their bodies.

“There is so much more to be had.” Sam whispered, his wings tucked away, his body wrapped around his king.

“And we will.” Dean muttered. “But first, we must free you.” He pushed Sam away, just a touch and unscrewed the bar in Sam’s nipple. He threw the small pieces out of the window. “Free now, my love. Free to be with me.” The noises from their second releases echoed around the room and filtered outside, filling the ears of two night guards who sat atop the highest tower.

“I don’t understand the mechanics of it all. How can they, y’know with the same set of bits and bobs each. It’s unnatural.” One guard said, not minding his tongue.

“Do I have to remind you, that’s our king you’re talking about. Sounds me to like he wouldn’t care one jot about what you think.” The other guard said. 

“Unnatural.” The first guard muttered. “And very loud.”

The king had left Sam sleeping when he woke at dawn and found himself wandering the castle alone. Two sets of guards had attempted to do their job and follow quietly behind but both were told firmly and quietly to ‘please leave me alone.’ The reality that he and his people were on the brink of war weighed heavy on him, even the red streaks across the morning sky felt like a warning rather than a welcome to a new day. He sat alone in the courtyard, his heavy dressing gown wrapped around him and could not begin to imagine what was to come. Hunting Wendigoes and Vetala’s and dragons had been all well and good but they had been simply trying to survive, grabbing the odd hapless victim only to live but now he had a great army approaching. An army lead by a mad man who wanted him and his castle, his riches and his people. And today was the day that the king would wander into the forests and beg for help from the creatures he had used for sport. What kind of a man did that make him?

He hunched over and sucked up a sob when he felt a presence beside him, it was Lord Robert clutching two cups of hot milk with maple syrup swirled into it.

“Good morning.” The king said softly, happy to see a friendly face. “Two morning refreshments?”

“Not usually but I saw your redundant guards, they told me you were out here.” Lord Robert handed a cup to the king, who took it gladly, wrapping his hands around the warm cup. “I am generally up and about at this hour.” He sat down next to his king. “I come out here before the castle wakes up and take it all in. It can be peaceful.”

“Feels like the calm before the storm this morning.”

“Aye, I was a young man as you are the last time there was anything like a war here. Even then, it was nothing but a small civil uprising.”

“The Defectors Revolt.”

“It lasted half a day, only one was injured and that was because the fool sat on his own blade.”

“You make us sound hapless.”

“No, indeed we are not, son. But we have lived in peace for so long, I worry some may not be up to it.”

“Me?”

“Dean, never you. I have as much faith in you as I did your father and his father before him. You are a good strong man, you will lead these people well, son.”

“I am fearful of many deaths, not of my own but of those who are willing to just blindly follow me into battle.”

“Would you prefer they shied away and rolled over like dogs?”

“No, of course not, Uncle Bobby.”

“They fight not because their king asks them too, they fight for each other. They want to keep what is theirs. What does Lucifer stand to lose? His castle is a relative ruin, he hates his people and the feeling is mutual. He has nothing to lose except his pride. We as a people, we have so much to hold onto. I know who I would put my money on.”

“I feel so much pain for his people.”

“Then fight for them too. A man who fights for the hell of it is going to come off much worse than a man who fights for a just cause. Trust me.”

“I hope that you are correct, Uncle.” The king sipped the milk which warmed his belly. There was a silence for a few minutes as the red dawn sky slowly dispersed giving way to a clear blue vista peppered with rose tinted clouds that made Dean think of Sam. “Lucifer took Baby.” Dean said, sucking in a tear. He had not said her name for a good many days.

“No.” Lord Robert frowned. “Baby is in the stables, sir.”

The king sat up and shot a look at his Uncle.

“You are mistaken, Bobby. He took her and said he was going to ‘strip her of parts’.”

“That horse came running into the grounds a few days after your disappearance. Came wandering in with some white stallion, cannot separate the pair of them.”

“Baby escaped?” The king grinned, setting his cup down on his seat.

“Looks like.” Lord Robert said casually. The king stood up and started for the stables.

“Wake Prince Samuel and tell him to meet me at the stables.” And then he was gone. 

The stables were still and quiet, the horses of the kings guard and army all stirring as they heard the kings bed slippers slapping across the cobbles.

“Baby?” The king called out and immediately the beautiful black mare popped her head over her stable door and nodded in excitement. The king could hear her hooves scraping with eagerness against the floor. She even gave the door a quick butt with her head, keen to once again see her friend. Dean opened the door and Baby stepped out, bobbing her head and shoving the king with her snout. He wrapped his arms around her head and sobbed, rubbing her neck with affection. “You beautiful, clever girl.” He whispered. She looked in good health and to the king as if ready for a battle too, full of energy. As he ran a hand along her back, Riot poked his head out from the stable shyly. “Come here, you.” The king smiled and Riot plodded out as if to say ‘I hope I am welcome here’.

“Riot?” Sam’s voice echoed around the courtyard, Dean spun on his heels, grinning broadly.

“Are we blessed with the most intelligent horses in all the land or are we not?” The king chuckled.

“It cannot be.” Prince Sam said, greeting his stallion with a huge hug. For a horse that came from House Hades, he was a soppy thing and was soon resting his head on Sam’s shoulder, nuzzling his neck. “Is this magic?” Sam muttered.

“It is love.” The king said softly.

After a quick breakfast of muffins and a new drink that Lady Ellen had discovered called coffee, King Dean and his Prince Sam mounted their horses and gathered together a small group of guards to accompany them to the forest. Dean was nervous about the parlay but now knew well enough not to leave the castle walls without protection.

“I wonder if perhaps it would be useful to have a supernatural being to come with us.” The king said, deep in thought.

“Like who? Sam asked. 

“Like you.”

“I have a pair of pretty little wings and not much else going for me when it comes to magic, De.” Sam smirked.

“I was thinking of Castiel. He offered his help, did he not.”

“Call for him.”

“How? I am meant to just yell out his name.”

“Just speak his name and ask for him.” Sam said simply. The king closed his eyes and bowed his head.

“Um, Castiel. We require the need of your assistance.” He opened one eye quickly, glancing around. “This is the king of the North and-” There was a soft fluttering sound and a small breeze. The king looked up, Castiel was stood in front of him. 

“Oh, you are here. I hope I called you as is meant.”

“I am here, your majesty. How can I help?” 

“As you know, King Lucifer prepares to strike any day now, we need the beings of the forest on our side. I wish to ask them to fight alongside us.”

“I do not think that wise, sir.” Castiel said gravely. The king glanced at Sam, frowning deeply.

“Why?”

“These are creatures you and your men hunted for sport.”

“They are also creatures whom snatched many of my people from their beds and killed them in cold blood.”

“They do what they need to survive.”

“As do I.” The king was determined.

“Very well, but do not expect a happy outcome.” Castiel smiled weakly at the king.

“Would it kill you to be a little more positive, Castiel?”

“I am being realistic.” Castiel said flatly.

“The realism is that I have thousands upon thousands of people to protect, not just my own but those oppressed by Lucifer. This affects all of those who live in Harmony, not just humans but the supernatural too. No people, no monsters.” The king shrugged.

“You may want to refrain from referring to those of the forest as monsters.” Castiel frowned.

“At this point in time, I do not care. Are you helping?”

“Yes.”

“Then let us not wait for the grass to grow.”

The king had chosen possibly the worst time of day for the meeting with the forest dwellers. Mid morning. Most slept during the day, hunting only from dusk until dawn. The king thought of the phrase ‘let sleeping dogs lie’ and wondered if it also applied to monsters. He felt naked riding into the forest without Impala strapped to his back. His more inferior blade, Cain was effective enough but lacked the added strength of The Mother Dragons blood. The king sent Castiel in ahead of them to find a clearing where they could all meet, if that is, they were willing. The king and Prince Sam sat upon their horses watching Castiel mutter into the trees, he took the humble approach which would never have crossed Dean’s mind and soon, weary looking creatures were walking out from behind and down the trees and approaching the faerie. From what Dean could see there were two pairs of Vetala’s, a few werewolves and some other beings he did not recognise. The conversation became a little heated and a couple retreated back into the forest. 

“Come, your majesty.” Castiel said, waving the king over. Dean walked Baby slowly toward the creatures bowing his head out of politeness.

“I come today with grave news.” The king said, trying his utmost to come across as friendly but also strong and kingly.

“The faerie has informed us, he also said that Lucifer is one of us too. What makes you think we would want fight with you, human king?” The creature that spoke had sharp pointed teeth which made Baby rear a little, but Dean kept her steady.

“Lucifer may well be one of your kin. But Castiel is also and so is Prince Sam.”

“I am the son of Lucifer.” Sam said. “And I have lived in the very heart of The Black Castle. He cares not about another living soul aside from his own. He captured myself and the king and slayed our mothers before our very eyes and now he wishes to take Harmony for his own, forsaking all others. None of us are safe.” Sam said firmly.

“We are never safe, Son of Lucifer. We live in fear of the king and his huntsmen.” A werewolf with dead eyes and a mouthful of jagged teeth flicked out his claws.

“And nor are our people when you take them from their beds. This is not about what we have done in the past but about the future. About how we all need to survive. It is our only common interest, is it not. We all breath and procreate and life is fleeting and dangerous, trust in me when I say. If Lucifer wins, he will kill us all.” The king was becoming a little angry and felt Sam lay a hand on his arm.

“There is a version of the future I have seen and it is a land of desolation and Lucifer wins.” Castiel said. “All of what we hold dear is lost. There is no forest, no castle and the few people who do survive, survive so under Lucifer’s control. We must join forces with the humans, we lay all of what has divided us in the past to rest. This is a grave day but there is another future, one where peace reigns and one were people and the forest dwellers live together.” Castiel glanced at the king and addressed him directly. “There are many possible ends to this war, nothing is set in stone.”

The forest dwellers came together and spoke to one another quietly, still wary of the king but with a powerful faerie fighting so passionately for his cause they came to a conclusion.

“We agree but there are terms.” One of the werewolves said.

“It is war, there can be no terms.” The king shook his head.

“De, give them a chance.” Sam whispered.

“We fight with you, we take Lucifer down and you leave us to live in peace. No more hunting.”

“And would you agree not take any of our people.” The king asked.

“Aye, we agree.”

“Then it is done.” The king said walking Baby slowly over to the werewolf, he held out a gloved hand. The werewolf shook it firmly.

The werewolf, whose name was Joba promised the king that he would rally together all the forest dwellers who were capable of fighting. Castiel put himself between the two factions as mediator, and would relay messages between the king and Joba and to watch over the forest to ensure that they kept to their words.

“A handshake means little to them.” Castiel said on the way back to The White Castle. ‘They do not understand the meaning but I will keep a watchful eye on them for you, sir.”

“Thank you. Your assistance is appr-” And before the king could finish his sentence, Castiel was gone. “Is it just me, or is our faerie friend a little odd?” The King chuckled.

“I like him, he seems eager to help.” Sam nodded.

“Let us hope he keeps his word and watches the creatures, for I still do not trust them.”

 

An extraordinary meeting of the war council was arranged the moment the king and Sam arrived back from their parlay in the forest. Lord Robert and the other members were keen to hear of the outcome. They also had grave and disturbing news to impart. The fact that the forest dwellers seemed to understand what was at stake and that they were willing to fight alongside the humans softened the blow with the report that Lord Gordon had been spying for Lucifer and had defected back to The Black Castle.

“I did wonder where the man had gone, I assumed he was simply shirking his responsibilities.”

“Aye, as did I.” Lord Rufus said, mad with himself that Lord Gordon was not outed before he had left, no doubt with intel about how the king and The White Castle operates.

“He knows nothing of our war strategy.” The King said with confidence. “We can be sure of that, so let us forget him. For he has chosen the wrong side. I, as king strip him of his Lordship from this day forward.”

“Just as you damn well should.” Lord Rufus nodded, enjoying the kings tough stance.

“Language, Rufus.” Lord Robert gasped.

“Oh, Robert. You of all people have no right to tell me how to speak.”

“I think colourful language is the least of our worries, Lord Robert.” The king smirked, amused. 

“There you go, the boy knows what is what.” Lord Rufus chuckled deeply.

The king chuckled at the breakdown in formality. 

“Please do not forget, we are all friends here.” The king grinned.  
“I’ll drink to that.” Lord Rufus nodded.

“Have you been drinking already?” Lord Robert frowned. Lord Rufus gave the king a sly wink, grinning broadly.


	10. Chapter Ten

The next morning just before dawn the White Army of the House Winchester was readied, it boasted a cavalry of 400 men. 200 archers and 600 foot soldiers. Many of the foot soldiers were reserves and men from the city who offered themselves up to fight alongside the king. The troops were to be split into two, each riding and marching around the city then meeting as one on the desolate wheat and barley fields that Lucifer had neglected. The space was vast and flat, a barren wasteland that once yielded a shared growth of cereals for both kingdoms. It was only through stockpiling by the northern king that they had been able to make bread and even then, supplies had been running low. The troops split off into their two armies, lining the perimeter of the castle. The king was dressed in pale blue suede, mail and with Cain in a scabbard by his hip newly infused with the last drops of dragon’s blood he and Sam had collected. Cain was the kings first sword, not a beast as Impala had been but he was used to the weight and the feel of it in his hand. If he was going to fight, it had to be with a blade that he knew well.   
Prince Sam was dressed in light red leather and had been given a bow and quiver with gold tipped fletchings. There was no time for him to train himself with a new sword and the king had been impressed with his bowman-ship. Both men also carried a small dagger and a long axe. The king looked behind him, then either side waiting eagerly for the forest dwellers, he felt unsure whether they would fight.

“We must leave soon.” The king said, worrying his bottom lip.

“Aye, I do not wish to be fighting in the dark.” Sam added, suddenly having to steady Riot from rearing as Castiel appeared in front of them. “Friend.” He said to the stallion softly.

“The forest dwellers will come. There are many, more than we had hoped for.” Castiel nodded. 

“Who will come?” The king said, walking Baby around the faerie.

“Many werewolves, Vetala’s, a large nest of vampires. Scores of others.”

“I hope they are hungry.” The King smirked. 

“Indeed we are.” Joba stepped up beside Castiel holding the horn of an animal. “It turns out that you have more loyal followers in the forests than we first thought, your majesty. We have children to feed as much as your humans do, we have homes to protect.” 

“We are here on common purpose then.” The King nodded.

“And it is an honour.” Joba bowed his head then blew the horn and soon, the forest dwellers were joining the ranks of the army, lining up, ready to fight.”

“Onward, all.” The king yelled, which was echoed further and further back and soon the army was splitting in two, ordered and ready to fight.

Castiel chose to walk alongside the king on foot with Joba by his side to discuss the king’s plan to have the forest dwellers attack first.

“Ah so we are bait, a distraction?’ Joba was suspiciously eying the king, wondering if not that this was all a ploy to cut down the number of ‘monsters’ in the forest without getting his hands bloodied.

“No, you misunderstand, Jo-J-” The king grappled with remembering the werewolf’s name.

“Joba.” Prince Samuel whispered.

“Joba. You are well aware I am sure that all of the creatures, forgive me, forest dwellers here are indigenous to the northern forests only?”

“Aye, I am aware.” Joba nodded.

“The south have not come across your kind before, they do not have the knowledge nor the weapons to fight you. They know of no silver to kill your kind, nor that beheading a vampire is the only way to end them. Any injuries you sustain will not harm you, unless of course you are very unlucky.”

“Very unlucky.” Joba echoed with a scoff.

“War is a roll of the dice, my friend. I am as vulnerable as you, maybe more so.” The king nodded.

“He speaks the truth.” Castiel said seriously, then looked up at the king. “It is likely that Lucifer has taken the same strategy, your majesty. That he too has recruited forest dwellers.”

“With the help of Lord Gordon no doubt. And what of the faeries, are they likely to fight by his side?” The king asked both Castiel and Prince Sam.

“We are peaceful beings though when we have needed to fight, it has been brutal and bloody.” Castiel said gravely.

“Awesome.” The king muttered.

“How in any way does that fill you with awe?” The faerie looked up at the king, quizzical as ever.

“I was merely being sarcastic. It is a play on words. A nice delivery, do you not think?” The king grinned, glancing at Joba, his Sam and Castiel who all looked back with blank expressions. “No? Ah, perhaps not my forte to dabble with new phrases. What others should we be aware of, Cas?” The king said casually. 

“A large community of Wraiths, Kitsune but they tend also to be peaceful and Rugaru’s who are relentlessly-” Castiel searched for the word. “-blood thirsty.”

“It is true about the Kitsune, I have befriended many.” Prince Sam nodded.

“You make friends with monsters?” The king frowned.

“You are in love with a faeire, my king.” The prince whispered. “And for your own sake, cease referring them to ‘monsters’.”

“Do not concern yourselves with the southern dwelling monsters, king.” Joba said, spitting on the ground. “We can take them.” Joba sniffed and looked quite the warrior, armed folded across his chest, large and threatening.

“Then we send our forest friends in first, at the break of dawn you will be the first to leave the encampment, you will take your men and strike Lucifer’s army from the rear. I am sure that sham of a king would not expect the virtuous king of the north to ally himself with those he once hunted.” The kind nodded at Joba. “It will be done?”

“Aye, your majesty. It will be done.”

At the encampment the air was filled with trepidation, no amount of weapons practice was ever enough to prepare a man for battle when they have done little more than read about it in dusty history books. A handful of men had hunted with the king and slayed many monstrous threats to their kingdom. They had seen blood of an enemy which compared to Lucifer was no threat at all and the human fatalities during their hunts had been few and far between. The king himself could sense the tension as if it were worming its way into his pores. He was fearful himself and questioned his leadership.

“How do I do this, Sammy?” The king said as his prince sat at his feet, his head rested on Dean’s knee. “How does one lead hundreds of frightened men when one is just as scared as them?”

“You have strategy, you have their kingdom to protect, their families and their livelihoods.”

“I fear my eyes lie when I look at them. A man may sit proud upon his horse, he may fit the image of a warrior but the eyes tell another everything, Sammy. It cannot be hid. I am just a man.”

“That may be, but you are king. You are their king.” Sam looked up at Dean. “And they trust you, they know you do not take war lightly. It is a just cause.”

“You are right, aye. But I feel like a fraud. I know they look upon me as some pretty boy king, the entitled heir.”

“Not everyone thinks you are pretty, De.” Sam smirked. “Fearful of battle, yet still capable of slight arrogance.” The prince teased, keen to lighten his kings’ dark mood.

“Perhaps then, I should channel that arrogance. Become the warrior they need. I feel guilt.” Dean said with sadness for his mood could not changed.

“You should not. This is Lucifer’s doing and we are here to undo it. There is little else any of us can do.”

The king barely slept, perhaps dozed for a few minutes at a time. Inside his head laid out on a large oak table was a map of the kingdoms and the map filled with blood which poured out over the images of his city, the forest, the desolate home of the dragons and spilled out over the white cliffs until the waters ran red. The image woke him each time he attempted to sleep. The king dragged himself from his cot and met with the forest dwellers. He asked Joba for a quiet word. They walked amongst the tents and men who sat by fires sharpening their weapons and crafting fletchings for their arrows.

“You are afraid.” Joba said softly, as he walked beside the king.

“And you are not?”

“Fear is our way of life.” 

“I have been foolish, as have the kings who ruled before me. For centuries we have slain your people and yes, you are people to me now. I see it now, that you do what you do to survive.”  
“Are you apologising, your majesty?” Joba was serious and perhaps a little touched.

“I suppose I am, aye.” The king smiled at Joba, who nodded his appreciation. “You were people once, is this true?”

“Aye, many centuries ago.” 

“After this is over and I hope with the will of my people that it will be, I vow to look after you and yours. I promise.”

“If we walk out of here alive, I will gladly hold you to that, your majesty.” Joba gave the king a sharp nod which he returned. “Ah, it looks as if my scout has returned.”

A large man or rather werewolf approached the king and Joba, he bowed at both men.

“Your majesty, this is Russ. He is my brother.”

“What news?” The king asked the breathless werewolf whom he noticed was a little bloody.

“Lucifer’s army is vast, but I believe we match him. His mounted cavalry is smaller but where he lacks in horsemen he makes up for with ground troops.”

“And weapons?” The King asked.

“What you would expect, sir. Maces, battle axes, pikes. But they look tired, dull. He has a troop of 200 who carry pitchforks.”

“What a surprise.” The king said dryly. “Archers?”

“A few, but we outnumber, sir. The pikes, sir.” Russ said gravely. The king watched the werewolf’s throat tightened. “There are heads on them.”

“Go on.” Dean stiffened a little bit kept his calm.

“From what I could tell and believe me, sir. I am not well versed when it comes to war but it looks like he has used his own people, commoners. Ordinary folk to wield weapons. They wear not battle dress but smocks and waistcoats. Their heads are unprotected, they are scared, fearful.”

“He is using the weak to send in before his army.” The king rubbed his face, Joba and Russ stood looking at Dean who was wishing he could hide away behind his hands forever. “And I am using you. These people, they are innocent. How can I justify sending in my secret weapon, using the supernatural against them. They do not wish not fight for him."

“Aye, sir. The heads mounted on the pikes, they look like a warning. Initiative. ‘Fight or this will be your fate’.”

“Lucifer is foolish. A beheading is swift if done correctly. Fast and over in seconds, to die in battle when you are unwilling and fearful, that is a bloody, brutal end.”

“Are you suggesting we pick and choose whom we kill, sir?”

“No. It cannot be. The key is to fight past those in more lowly positions, there will be casualties of course. I am not as soft in the head as many believe, my aim is to free the people. Save all of the people.”

“All of them?”

“I know what Lucifer is capable of. He is driven by hate. If we, I just stand back, we are all going to die.”

“I would not want that weight on my shoulders.” Joba said sadly, now feeling a connection of brotherhood with the king. “I would feel crushed by it.”

“Believe me, it has that effect. Men or monsters, this is our fight.”

Joba and Russ pulled themselves up, huge great men showing their king that they were there for him.

“You are a good man, your majesty.” Joba bowed his head slowly.

“Tell me that again when we are banqueting at the White Castle with Lucifer’s bloody head on a plate.” The king said deeply.

The conversation with the brothers had riled Dean up and as he walked away he was shaking with anticipation. The fear was still there, he knew he needed to hold onto a little of it. Fear, his father once told him was a product that came from love. That those who you hold dear most were the ones you were more scared of losing. Fear makes for a better hunter. That, the king thought was his biggest weapon he had against Lucifer, hundreds of men and thousands of people who were not about to lie down and let him take what they love away. The sheer animal instinct of survival would be what would drive them into battle.

“You seem to have settled in comfortably allying yourself with the monsters, Dean.” A soft voice drawled. General Lafitte always took it upon himself to address the king informally when alone. And the king did not mind, many times the tough but kind General had saved Dean from hunts that had gone wrong when the king was a younger man. Many were wary of the man, a southerner who had left his kingdom to join forces with the north but Dean had taken to him. He was tough and loyal, almost like the brother he had never had.

“Someone had to, Benny.” The king said, sitting next to the General by a fading fire. 

“That was brave of you, your father would never have done it.”

“My father is not here, is he.” The king sighed heavily. 

“If it helps, I think your way is the right way.”

“Thank you. I have always appreciated your support.”

 

The forest dwellers were gathered together and addressed by the king himself. He had led them into the war and was damned if he were going to allow another to see them depart.

“You all know the plan. And you all know what is at stake.” The king said, watching as the monsters seemed to be keen to get going. “Lead us.” The king nodded.

The monsters ran, splitting off into two factions. Werewolves, Vampires, Vetala’s et al. Primed and ready, all teeth and claws with blood in their hearts. The king could not bear to the think about the fates of those who encountered them. His hired army of monsters tearing into bodies, feeding from them.  
It was dawn and the sky was blood red. The king was never a superstitious man but the sky looked ominous. He thought to himself though as he watched the sun rise over the skies of the south, that the warning there was for Lucifer.

“Remember.” The king said softly from atop Baby to Prince Sam and General Lafitte. “Kill the head, and the rest will flounder. No dictator, no followers.” The king almost heard Sam gulp as they pushed onto the battleground, their vast army behind them under a cover of shared intent. As they rode, Lucifer’s army came into view across the burnt, dry wasteland that was once plentiful with wheat and barley. The horizon curved making it look as if Lucifer’s army were straddling the land, pinned to it, keeping it for themselves. The kings army lined up behind him, half a mile long. His strong mounted cavalry of riled up, keen horses. Lucifer’s army was still but he could just make out the man, mounted on his large Pale Horse. And then as they watched as a rider going at some considerable speed approached them. The king felt his army rise up, ready. The clatter of pikes and shields being raised. The king held up a hand as the rider pulled up before tossing two heads at the feet of the kings horse. Baby made to rear but Dean held the mare steady. The rider retreated leaving the heads of the Queen Anael and Queen Mary, bloody and still on the ground. The king inhaled sharply then glanced at Sam.

“He is toying with us.” The king said as he moved Baby around the heads and pushed the image of them into the back of his mind. He walked the horse along his stretch of men. Ready now, ready to send them to their fates.

“This land.” The king yelled, addressing his men. “Was once a fruitful land. A shared land with the south. A land that joined us in a peaceful union. In harmony. A man has taken it from us, he has oppressed his people and has threatened the north with the same fate. I, your king, will not sit back and watch the peoples of Harmony suffer at his hands. I know that you are fearful, and we are about to enter a bloody dawn but tomorrow the sun will rise on a new day. And while blood might soak into the ground this day, we will have taken back a land which is united.” The army cheered, the entire body of men, heaving. “Kill the head, and the rest will flounder!” The king yelled and his final sentiment was screamed back at him. “Cavalry, charge!”


	11. Chapter Eleven

The King was gone, he did not have the will nor perhaps the courage to even look at his prince. He rode Baby hard, holding Cain aloft as Sam pulled up, riding beside him driving Riot hard into the ground. General Lafitte was by his side too, his chestnut stallion Sorento, beating the dry earth. And behind them 400 riders thundered forward, aligning themselves with the king. In front of them, hundreds of men bearing pitchforks and crouched behind shields sat behind their false king. Dean’s mind was clear of all thought aside from one, to kill Lucifer but as he rode he noticed a group of six Pale Horse riders gather around his king escorting him away from the approaching horde of House Winchester horsemen. The ground vibrated under the thousands of hooves, cutting hard into the arid earth, kicking up clouds of dust. The king shot a sideways look at Prince Sam who nodded with confirmation that he had seen the cowardly Lucifer retreat. Dean veered left and Sam’s horse followed, subtly changing direction in perfect unison to hunt down Lucifer. They knew the tactic, one guard at a time, take each one from behind. Pick them off one by one.

The Winchester horsemen drove their equine army into the cluster of shielded men, many horses were pierced, throwing their men into the air. Forcing those alive and uninjured to go toe-to-toe with their enemy. The noise level rose and was a cacophony of clattering pikes, horses screaming out their last breaths, yells of pain and victory echoed. As the king rode hard after Lucifer, Baby’s hooves soon found bodies of the enemy army slaughtered by the forest dwellers. Their throats bled out, ripped open. Some still lived, their dying gurgles drowned out by the epic melee around them. The king, from the corner of his eye saw Joba. A mouth full of jagged teeth, sharp claws, jumping from one victim to the next and tearing them to shreds. His blood felt like ice running through his veins as a heart was torn from a soldiers chest and bitten into victoriously. He looked away, focusing on bringing down the ‘head’. Prince Sam had moved a little ahead of him and was swinging his weapon, skillfully taking down man after man as he maneuvered Riot through the sea of bodies, simply clearing a path as one would through a forest of brambles. 

General Lafitte thundered past the king so fast that Dean felt him. Benny took down one guard, one swing from his sword which dragged the guard backward, his throat open and his horse was left riding on, bloody. The blood from the kill was caught and carried by the air and splattered over the king which threw him for a split second. In that tiny moment of distraction, the king was pierced in the shoulder by a long black shiny pitchfork and knocked from Baby who whinnied loudly in distress as if they were connected. The black mare held her own, rising up to keep her balance from falling as the weight of the king threatened to knock her down. Dean’s legs tangled with his stirrups and he felt his back crack as he hit the ground and was dragged a few yards across the dirt. He twisted his body freeing his leg and gave Baby a gentle kick for her to stop. Again, the horse reared up and in doing so knocked out a solider who was on his way to finish the king off. 

Dean scrambled up from the ground and gave Baby a hard slap on her rear which threw up dust into the air, the pain from the injury surged through his body with just that small gesture.  
“GO!” The king yelled at his horse, urging her to save herself but she wouldn’t. Never once since being a foal had Baby disobeyed her king but her action was one of loyalty. ‘I am not leaving you, friend.’ She turned around and nudged the king hard with her rear, pleading with him to remount her. But it was too late. Dean could see Sam and Benny chasing down the guards. Five now, still surrounding Lucifer who had clearly bitten off more than he could chew. ‘Where was the threat of magic in this fight?’ There was too much thinking and as the king adjusted to the pain he attempted to climb back on his horse but to no avail. He was in the centre of it all, alone and on foot. No advantage of height nor men to assist him. And so he fought.

The noise was deafening as he fought with an axe wielding solider, not a fighter at all, just a man. His body moved stiffly and his axe was too much of a weight for him to bear and soon he was dead, laying on the ground, eyes open with Cain imbedded in his chest. One after another, the king took down men either with a severe injury or a fatal blow. A pike was driven part way into his lower calf muscle which stopped him briefly. A cowardly move to attack a man from behind and soon the king was channelling his pain and converting it to rage. His eyes went dark and Cain, now stained and bloody was swung around his head. He turned as the blade cut into the air and sliced into the neck of his attacker. The man fell, but Dean did not once blink at the dead eyes looking back at him. The king moved backward with Baby at his rear, guiding him away from the chaos. Pain was not a feeling that Dean could give into even as he was punched in the chest with a blunt bastard sword wielded by a boy who looked barely 16 years old. It winded him which made him vomit, he spat out the bile onto the ground then reached back blindly and found Baby, he pulled himself up and half dragged himself back onto his mare who instinctively found a gap within the swarm. The king pulled himself up with a loud, painful grunt as Baby took him to find Sam. 

Prince Sam was still on horseback, fighting with a Pale Rider. He fought hard, keeping himself steady with Riot moving around the other horse as if dancing. The king joined them, now fully seated on Baby. He took the Pale Rider out with one fatal blow, so hard it knocked him from his horse and was impaled on a pitch fork. Sam’s face was covered in blood as he nodded thanks to his king and his love. Lucifer had been riding hard, now with only three guards to protect him and had retreated back to The Black Castle. Castiel who had been gone appeared in Baby’s path, the mare reared a little and the king circled the faerie.

“It is a trap, your majesty.” Castiel said, appearing to hold up the king from continuing his chase. 

“It’s true, Dean.” Benny said, pulling up beside the king. He was bleeding heavily from an open gash across his face but behaved as if all was well. “One of my men saw the prince and I. He joined the chase but as he approached the castle he was-” Benny searched for the word. “-he was torn apart. There was a flash of light it was as if he walked into something I could not see. Today I have seen many men draw their last breath but none in such a horrific and cowardly way”

“He has protected his castle.” Castiel said gravely.

“So, he is using magic after all.” The king said, now addressing the faeire. 

“Yes.” Castiel closed his eyes, despite their being several hundred yards away from the castle, he lifted one hand as if he were reaching out to touch what was surrounding it. “It is warded. It is a complex spell that Lucifer has used. There is blood work involved. Intricate. No one can pass.” Castiel frowned deeply as if in slight pain. “Except blood.” He turned his head and opened his eyes, looking directly at Prince Sam. “You, your highness. You are his only living blood tie.”

Prince Sam pulled himself up on Riot, even the horse seemed to stiffen with the news.

“He has warded it from faerie’s too?” The king asked.

“Yes, we are not connected by blood. Lucifer may be a brother but in the sense that we share the same maker, the word Father is more of an interpretation. In fact, many of-”

“Not that I am disinterested in your heritage Cas, but stow the history lesson.” The King said casually. “Why build an army and start a war only to hide yourself?” The king cast his eyes across the former fields, there were still small pockets of fighting but many were dead or had retreated back to The Black Castle after Lucifer. House Winchester healers walked amongst the bodies but the king could see that his numbers were still many. The sight did not seem like a victory at all. “How do we break that spell?”

“We cannot, at least not this day. It would take much research to break a spell that powerful.”

“No, there must be another way. I cannot sit looking through dusty old books while Lucifer still lives.”

“I will go. I will go and talk to Lucifer.” Prince Sam said softly. Dean’s head snapped in his loves direction.

“No. You will not.” 

“Cas said himself, no one can enter The Black Castle from outside. Except me.”

“No.” The king pressed.

“The king is right, your highness. Lucifer may well be protecting himself but it is likely that the spell is a trap for you.”

The king climbed down from Baby, wincing as he landed on his legs, the pain from his calf injury shooting up his body. He had been seated for so long, the wound had become numb.

“Get down.” The king gestured to Sam. “Now.” He limped away with Sam dismounting Riot. He followed his king to the edge of the forest for privacy.

“I am not allowing you to go in there.”

“De, we do not have any other choice. Perhaps I could reason with him?” Sam spoke softly, he was terrified but his offer to help was meant.

“Reason with him, are you out of your mind? Do you think Queen Anael had the chance to beg or reason before he sliced off her head. Our mother? No, Sam. This is folly.” The king was shaking all over, drained from the battle and the loss of blood.

“Do you trust me, my love?” Sam gave his king a weak but gentle and loving smile.

“Is it a question that needs an answer?” The king moved back, pale now and leaning against a tree. He reached out for Sam, just managing to grab the mail across his chest with the tips of his fingers. Sam moved closer.

“Then believe it. I have an idea. I am part faerie, I may have the ability to use what powers I have against Lucifer.”

“You have wings, Sammy. How is that-” Dean’s head dropped forward against Sam’s chest with a soft thud then his body folded under him before sliding slowly down Sam’s front. Sam grabbed the king’s limp body and yelled out from the trees.

“Healers! Castiel!”

The army healers were too far away to hear but Castiel was by their side within the blink of an eye. Sam had laid the king down on the ground, he was awake but weak. Castiel cast an eye over his body.

“He has lost much blood.” 

“Can you help him?” Sam was slightly panicked, holding the back of Dean’s head gently. Castiel laid a hand against the king’s forehead which emitted a soft green glow which seemed to penetrate the kings body.

“He is healed. But must rest for an hour or so.” The faeire sat back on the ground, a little weakened.

“Cas? I need you to teach me how to use my magic.” Sam said with determination.

The king was carried on a gurney by four healers, now sleeping and slowly healing. Sam allowed a weakened Castiel to sit upon Baby while they travelled back to the army’s encampment. Baby shook a little, never before had she had anyone else but her loyal friend on her back but she was clever and allowed the faeire by way of thanks for helping her friend. The soldiers were alarmed to see their king, blood stained and escorted by healers but Sam assured them that their king was alive and well. And that he simply needed rest. Dean was laid in his tent and Sam wasted no time in taking Castiel aside.

“Teach me. We do not have time to wait for the king to awake, nor do we have time to go back to The White Castle to mix up potions and spells.”

“I have little knowledge of what magic a child of a faeire and human can do, your highness.” Castiel admitted. “It would take time to hone your skills."

“Then make time and do it faster.” Sam said plainly.

The magic that faeries possess was gifted to them by their Father by way of reward for their loyalty after he created Harmony. He had given them the forest in the south, a warm climate for them to live in peacefully. Only Lucifer was left out of the gifting but over centuries, it hadn’t deterred the fallen faeire. He stole from his Brothers and Sisters, slaughtering kin to build his strength. Whatever could be said about Lucifer, he was patient. Since thievery does not go unpunished, the magic he stole from his family was weak once it had left them. He had to bide his time, killing only every few years so as to not arouse suspicion. It had taken Lucifer hundreds and hundreds of years to get to a strength that he could use to his advantage and even then, his Father’s skill was unmatchable. But where he lacked in strength he made up for in cunning.

*

“So, that went well.” Crowley was sat at the head of the war table in The Black Castle, he quite fancied himself there. More ambition than to just orchestrate the running of the Burning Pit of Hades. It was fun but it felt like more of a hobby and Crowley was nothing but ambitious. He was all sarcasm and snappy lines which didn’t fit well into King Lucifer’s council but the king had always thought Crowley useful, as least for as long as he was needed.

“Don’t let your king hear you that, stupid boy.” Rowena, Crowley’s youthful flame haired witch of a mother was doing her usual lap of the huge table, asserting a little dominance by making herself seem taller by standing up.

“Do you have to that, mother. You’re making me feel bilious.” Crowley’s eyes followed the dainty witch who was dressed in what she had called her ‘battle dress’. A long flowing lilac gown with a heavy belt made of shiny silver mail.

“And now, dearie. You understand what being your mother feels like.” Rowena quipped. Footsteps echoed from the hall way leading into the war room. Crowley discreetly slid himself back into his own seat and Rowena planted herself next to Lucifer’s, gesturing as if she were pulling it out for him. Forever a humble servant.

Lucifer’s face was as red as Crowley’s hot coals in the Burning Pit. Even his presence as he walked around the table to sit made all assembled tense in unison. There were several levels of evil within the council. Lead, obviously by Lucifer who was the purest of all, Crowley who had ambition and delusions of grandeur but often felt intimidated by the king, although he would never let it be said. Balthazar who was the kind man who would ally himself with anyone depending on what he could gain from it and whose presence on the council had always been dubious. Rowena who often struggled with being ‘the evil witch’ and could at a push be kind. And finally a very dead Lord Gordon, still sitting upright in his chair at the table, poisoned by the king. Lucifer had taken the intel offered by the northern Lord; then dispatched of him without a second thought.

Crowley had a mouthful of comments he wanted to direct at the king that were making his tongue itch. Word of the failure of the battle had reached The Black Castle before Lucifer had made it back to the war room. And Crowley was fighting back a load of ‘I told you so’s’ but he held his tongue. One wrong move or word and Lucifer would dispatch with his second in command within the blink of an eye.

“Their army was stronger, wasn’t it.” Crowley muttered, just to ease the itching.

“Does it please you to state the obvious, Crowley or are you really that stupid?” Lucifer snapped.

“You should have used more magic, my king.” Rowena bowed her head, still standing next to a seated Lucifer who just placed a hand on her hip and gave her a hard shove.

“Yes, why didn’t you use more magic?” Balthazar said, leaning back in his seat sipping from a wine cup.

“You think this was a failure?” Lucifer smirked. “This was cleansing. Do you know how many less men I have to provide for now the battle is over?” Lucifer glanced at the blank faces looking back at him. “Guess.”

“I couldn’t say, your majesty.” Crowley murmured.

“Guess.” Lucifer pressed.

“Are we talking actual figures here, your majesty?”

“Guess.” Lucifer was in a playful mood despite his knowing the King of the North was still alive and kicking.

“I don’t know. More than one hundred?” Crowley despised the kings game playing.

“Try more than four hundred. And probably two hundred on the other side.”

“Well done, your majesty.” Crowley was entirely unimpressed.

“The King of the North still lives. As does my son. And I hear they have a faerie on their side.”

“Oh, they do?” Balthazar tensed a little but not in a way anyone would detect.

“Some pretty boy called Castiel.” King Lucifer was not familiar with all of the faeries by name, even though they were linked and descended from the Father.

“The healer? Goodness, if he has allied himself with the King of the North, then he has bound himself to King Dean as is protector. Has he healed the king already?” Balthazar said.

“Yes, a scout told one of my men that the king was severely injured with one of my poisoned pitchforks but then walked away, or rather rode on that clever mare of his.”

“Ah, then Castiel is now bound to the King of the North. Killing him will be nigh on impossible.” Balthazar spat out a mouthful of rich red wine as Lucifer stood up and bellowed across the war room.

“What is your purpose here, Balthazar!?” The king yelled. “Aside from drinking my entire stock of fine wines and ales. And pricking all the ladies of my court, hm? And the rest of you, what do you actually do? All I want around me, are people who aren’t afraid of a little dictatorship. I might as well get rid of the lot of you and do it all by myself because while I was out there, on the battlefield, you lot were in here. I put myself at risk for you all, and my court.”

“To be fair, your majesty.” Balthazar said, feeling a little devil may care. “You didn’t really get your hands dirty, you can’t even wield that broadsword you stole from the pretty green eyed king. You retreated the very moment the battle begun and despite being chased down by the king and your own flesh and blood, you lost most of your guards before returning here. And you hid away like a coward behind an invisible shield which is vapourising your men upon their return. So, your majesty, why didn’t you use more magic?”

“Oh no.” Crowley said deeply, sinking down in his seat. Even Rowena stepped away and retreated into the corner of the room and hid behind a House Hades banner on the wall. 

“Are you quite finished?” Lucifer said, eerily calm.

“More finished than you know.” Balthazar smirked, he knew what was coming. Lucifer snapped his fingers and Balthazar was obliterated in a split second. A huge puff of grey and green dust puffed its way into the air and covered every available surface. Except for Rowena, the only one who had had the nous to hide. 

“What terrible timing to speak your mind.” Crowley said, wiping some of what was left of Balthazar from his cheek with a monogrammed handkerchief. 

Balthazar though had been clever. Just before his death he had planted a small seed of doubt into King Lucifer’s mind. By calling him a coward he had not only spoken his mind but also reminded the king that his big plan had failed. As much as Lucifer would love to relish in the fact that he had lost people whom he would no longer need to provide for, Balthazar knew the people of the south well enough. And that there would an uprising and possibly a mass exodus to the safety of the north. A kingdom where people prospered and lived happy but simple lives under the rule of good and kind king. But those thoughts were fleeting for Lucifer who was now seeing red and Crowley could feel the danger standing next to him. Rowena slipped away from behind the banner and disappeared from the war room. She suddenly felt the need to leave King Lucifer entirely. Crowley was enough for the king and she was finding it too tiring pretending to be something she wasn’t.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Prince Sam had been taken by Castiel to the stone faerie ring where he and his king had woken up after their rescue. Castiel had told him that it was the best place to start to hone Sam’s dormant magic. Castiel and the power of the ring had healed the men after their time in the pits in Hades and would help with drawing out the magic Sam never knew he had.

“Have you let your wings out since the first time we were here, your highness?” Castiel sat on the ground opposite Sam, both cross-legged with their eyes closed.

“It’s Sam.”

“Have you, Sam?” Castiel pressed. 

“Yes, but only once.” Sam felt a little conspicuous sitting shirtless with the faerie in the open air. But he had been in a state of undress when they had first met so tried to set the feeling aside. He had to concentrate, for his king. His love.

“When was this?”

“Is that necessary, Cas?” Sam opened one eye to look at the faeire.

“Keep your eyes closed, we must both focus and you must respond to me honestly. We are all about transparency.”

“I was with Dean. We had, well we were being intimate.” Sam mumbled but Castiel did not react. It was not his place to judge nor comment. 

“Ah, a strong emotional situation. This is good. Your wings will help harness your power. They behave in a similar way to that of the web of a spider. They pull in the magic and hold it there. But you must focus on the task in hand, why you want the magic, what you need it for.”

“To save my king and his kingdom.” Sam said without hesitation. And the moment he spoke, his wings unfurled and settled prettily against his shoulder blades. Sam’s wings were different to those faeries usually have. The product of a human and a faerie, they were layered and almost feathery at the bottom. The span was huge and matched his frame, even Castiel had to open an eye to have another look. He hadn’t seen wings quite like it in all his centuries of existence, nor had he seen such a beautiful elfin faerie shaped face. 

“Concentrate on your king, take yourself to him in your mind, focus on the emotion and the magic will come to you. Do not however focus on the bad, nothing good comes from magic borne of evil. Love is the strongest of all emotions, harness it.” Castiel became silent, allowing Sam to fall into what was similar to a deep sleep. 

Dean came to him. He thought back to the time they spent together hunting and clutched onto the memory of falling in love with him. He focused on the kings beauty, how he felt when he held him for the first time, when they kissed and made love. And then his mind slipped into a dream, Dean was there right in front of him. It was an ordinary day, one with no conflict, nor foreboding red skies. Just Sam and his king laying together next to the water. The ground beneath was soft and looked like sugar, it was warm and bled into the sea which was drifting over it, white like the froth atop a pint of ale. The sounds were gentle and calming, the sea birds above them were silent and would every so often dip into the water and pull out a wet, wriggling creature. The Sam in the dream was looking up at his king and became one with real Sam, he was no longer an observer in the dream, he was there and he felt it. He could feel the weight of the king’s body over his his, the give of his flesh as Dean pushed against him. He could feel Dean inside him, intimately. The press of his lips against his own. He let out a soft moan which travelled from the dream and out from his mouth which made the stones around he and Castiel vibrate.

Castiel’s eyes remained closed but he could feel the power of the emotions in the dream emanating from Sam’s body, he leaned back on his hands to steady himself as Sam breathed heavily and the ground shook beneath them. As ‘dream Sam’ climaxed Castiel saw the prince’s body shake and draw the magic into him. He felt a little afraid as he had never witnessed the process before and the power Sam was drawing from the dream and the stones was beyond any Castiel had ever known. Sam collapsed backward onto the moss and laid still while the earth settled. Sam opened his eyes, his immediate emotion was one of exposure and intimacy. It faded a little and then he felt as if his body weighed heavier. He sat up slowly even if he thought he could not manage to and glanced at Castiel who was looking a little coy.

‘Is it done?” Sam said softly, glancing down at his arms and bare chest.

“It is done, your highness.” Castiel nodded.

“Cas, please. Call me Sam, I am no longer a prince. How will I know what magic I can use?” Sam tried to pull his clothes around his body but the jacket became tangled with his wings. He held the garment against his chest, still fighting off the feeling of exposure.

“That, I do not know. Sam.” 

“That is not helpful news.” Sam frowned, his wings were larger than they were before and even Castiel could not avert his eyes from them.

“Magic is personal to each faerie since its use is harnessed to their own emotions. Your father, Lucifer for example can produce quite dark and powerful magic but since he uses his questionably it goes against our way of life. Dark magic used for selfish personal gain and evil, it comes at a price.”

“What do you mean?” Sam muttered, trying and failing to close his wings.

“Since Lucifer used his magic to shield his castle, it is most likely that his vessel is decaying rapidly but this means his magic has also become unstable. As if it is fighting against him, pleading to be used for good. And this is dangerous in itself.” Castiel said gravely. “Punishment from his own kind and from his own magic is inevitable.”

“Why did you not speak of this before?” 

“Because, Sam. The process of punishment is not only harmful to the one who abused their power but also to those around them. If Lucifer is not stopped, his punishment will destroy the entire land.”

“Cas, you must tell the king. He needs to know of the danger. Why wait until now?”

“I did not believe Lucifer to be as stupid as this. This is why many believed faerie’s to be extinct. We live quiet peaceful lives, not only to protect humans but to protect ourselves. Using dark magic the way Lucifer has, it is suicide. But this is not throwing yourself from the highest turret of your castle, this is killing yourself and taking every last living thing with you. He has been foolish beyond my understanding. Sam.” Castiel paused, sucking in a deep breath. “I fear it is only you now who can stop him. You are an abomination sired by evil.”

“Again, thank you for reminding me of my questionable heritage, Castiel.” Sam interjected.

“Forgive me, faerie’s tend to have a habit of speaking the absolute truth despite the consequences.”

“Indeed. Cas, will my magic be strong enough to take the shield down from around the castle?”

“Your magic is strong enough to take down both the castle and Lucifer.”

“I need to wake my king.” Sam stood up, noticing the extra weight from his wings and managed to shake them until they curled back into his body. He dressed hurriedly but Castiel remained seated, looking in no hurry at all.

“May I ask a question?” Castiel looked up at Sam who was ready to leave, throwing his bow and quiver over his shoulder. He nodded. “Are you and the king together intimately?” It was a brash question to ask but Sam paid no mind.

“We are. What of it?”

“I am not here to judge, love is love in my mind. I just feel that the love you have for him will be your guiding light when it comes to your destruction of Lucifer.”

“I do not feel it.” Sam smiled. “I know it.”

*

“No. Absolutely not. I am not allowing you to go in there alone, Sammy. Over my dead body.” The king was awake and as fit and ready to fight as he had ever been, thanks to Castiel’s healing hands. Sam and the faeire stood silently as the king raged. “Cas, would you mind leaving us, just for a moment.” Castiel nodded, disappearing to the sound of fluttering wings.

“De, it must be me. It can only be me.”

King Dean pressed his hands against the edge of the table in his tent, he shook his head. After all he had been through to get Sam back, he could not bear to send him back into the place that had stolen him away.

“It is folly. It is dangerous for you to go in there alone without even so much as a guard.” 

“Dean, please. I am strong. Castiel said as much. I am one man, or abomination as Cas keeps calling me.” Sam allowed himself a soft chuckle but the king was in no mood for humour. “If I do not at least try, Lucifer will destroy himself and all of us. All of your people, you, the entire kingdom would cease to exist. Everything you have ever known would be gone.”

“I cannot.” The king stifled a soft sob. “I cannot lose you again. I suffered for so many years without you by my side.” Sam pulled the king into his arms and held him tightly.

“My love, you saved me. And now it is my turn to save you.” Sam was overcome too, he was frightened of what was to come and wanted nothing more than to take his sweet king and run with him. “De, you are the king. And not just the king of the north but of all the people, forest dwellers and fauna of the land. It is yours to rule but without this, it will all turn to dust. You must, we must put our feelings aside for the good of our people otherwise we are just as selfish as Lucifer himself.” Dean looked up at his beautiful faerie prince.

“You are brave beyond measure, braver than I.” Dean whispered.

“May I give you something before I leave?” Sam looked at Dean intently who inhaled a defiant breath. He nodded.

The prince secured the opening to the tent for privacy before leading the king to his cot. They sat together quietly as Sam removed his shirt, he pushed out his chest and out popped his wings. The new span made Dean gasp and Sam embraced him with his arms and his wings. He kissed Dean softly and then passed on the dream he had during his time in the faeire ring. Sam heard Dean gasp and both lost themselves in the dream as they kissed.

“What was that?” Dean muttered, feeling incredibly warm wrapped inside Sam’s wings.

“A dream I had within the faerie ring, but I believe that perhaps now that it is not a dream but a vision from the future. This is why I must defeat Lucifer.” The two men laid together, joined by a wakened dream. Dean stroked the feathery wings that laid against the small of Sam’s back, willing himself to be transported the idyllic world within the dream. Castiel appeared in Sam’s mind, it was time.

The king could barely look at Sam as he held his hand in view of his men as he walked him toward Riot who would take him to The Black Castle. Letting go was even harder and Dean’s loose hand dragged down the neck of the silver stallion. He felt useless as king, unable to do anything but send his love into that hellish pit of a castle. Sam was serious and focused but the king could not hide his heartbreak, unsure whether he would see Sam again. Just like last time. Sam looked down from his horse and smiled at his love.

“I will be back.” He said with a sharp nod. Dean sucked in a hard breath and nodded back.

“I know."

“I love you.” Sam muttered.

“I love you too.” The king replied loudly with no shame to hide. And Sam was off, walking Riot into the direction of the Black Castle.

As he rode past the edge of the city, all was quiet, as if all the people were hidden away, cowering. Terrified of what would happen next. The city of the north and the castle had always been a comfort to Sam. It was always bustling and noisy, full of happy people, living their lives. But the southern city had been more quiet as far as happiness was concerned and the noises that came from there were ones of anguish. Poverty often brought out the worst in people, thieves were rife, people went hungry and begged on the streets. Houses of ill-repute prospered as did rowdy drinking inns, which only served to act as a conduit for those who were desperate. As the prince approached the castle, there was nothing but remains of the men who had tried to pass through the invisible shield. Bodies torn apart like he had never seen in his life. He had seen violence when he had worked alongside Crowley. He had been under his father’s spell but often and in times of solitude he had brief flashbacks of that time as if they were stories in his mind that had been told by another. But nothing prepared him for the bodies or parts of bodies that Riot was now respectively stepping around. Sam dismounted, he gave Riot a slap on the rear, sending him back to the king as a sign that he had reached the castle. Beyond that, the king would not hear from Sam until he had succeeded or until the land was turned to dust and falling into the water that surrounded it.

As Castiel had predicted correctly, Sam was able to walk through the shield unharmed. He did not hesitate, there was no time for it. The Black Castle was quiet and there were no guards since they were not needed as well as the shield. He was not approached by a soul but his senses told him that he was being watched and he knew exactly who by.

“Rowena.” Sam said, stopping on the path that lead to the main heavy iron gates into the castle. The tiny red haired witch was sitting behind a heavy dying oak tree. Cloaked and with a large woven bag at her feet. The witch beckoned the prince over, she looked scared and was trembling as she stood and pulled Sam by his arm behind the huge tree.

“What are you doing here?” Rowena whispered, unable to focus on his face, her eyes look here there and everywhere.

“I have come to kill the king.” Sam said plainly. “Are you going somewhere, you seemed to have your feet firmly placed underneath the war room table the last time I saw you.”

“Lucifer has gone too far. He killed Balthazar.”

“I think the king went too far when he made his people fight for him and sent them to their deaths. Balthazar was a traitor to both the north and the south.”

“Aye, he did. I don’t seem tae be capable of leaving, his magic is beyond mine. He has lost his tiny wee mind.” Rowena jumped as a large black bird flew from the tree, flapping its wings. Sam had never seen her look so scared.

“You cannot. It is a blood spell.”

“You are aware then, that it is likely a trap you are walking into.” 

“I am and that is the entire point.” Sam looked down at Rowena. 

‘I think perhaps you should find a more suitable hiding place. Lucifer does not take kindly to deserters.”

“I could help.” Rowena muttered as if she she didn’t really want to say it.

“I think not, this is between me and him.” Sam made himself taller, stared Rowena down which seemed to pin her into place and also gag her into silence. Only her eyes told Sam exactly what she was feeling by being overpowered. The prince told her it was for her own good and that when it was all over, he would release her. He moved on to the castle proper, walking in unchallenged since the place was unguarded and most of Lucifer’s army were left dead on the battlefield or in pieces around the shield. 

“Ah, if it is isn’t the giant prodigal son.” Crowley stepped out from a dark alcove, his shoulders still a little dusty with Balthazar’s remains.

“Crowley.” Sam nodded, all politeness even though the urge to wring the man’s neck there and then was strong.

“I see you have powered yourself up at long last.”

“How, how can you tell?”

“It’s radiating from you. You know, your father has been waiting for this day. You’re his ultimate weapon, love.”

“The days of my being controlled by Lucifer are over.”

“So you say. Come, he’s waiting for you in the throne room. He’s feeling a little tetchy if you ask me, so it might be wise to tread carefully.”

“Why are you warning me?” Sam scoffed. “To save yourself?” Sam chuckled and walked on to the throne room. The castle was quiet and still, usually full of guards at almost every door and members of court milling about, going here and there.

“Just being friendly.”

“Do not bother yourself.” Sam muttered as he pushed the two heavy doors to the throne room open.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

A confrontation between Lucifer and Sam had been long overdue. The young prince had been under the king’s spell from the time he could talk when the king had noticed signs of kindness toward others. He locked his soul away if only to mold him into a younger and stronger version of himself. And Lucifer knew that once Sam could harness his powers that he would become the weapon he needed to seize the land for himself. But Lucifer had not taken into account the strength of humanity and the power of love. He had lost his weapon in a way that he had not foreseen but here he was, walking straight back into his grasp.

“My son.” Lucifer remained seated but opened his arms in greeting.

“I am not your son. And you have never earned the title of father.” Sam said bitterly. Lucifer looked unwell, his vessel had been decaying in recent months and could barely hold onto the being inside it.

“Ouch, that hurts. Perhaps I deserved that for I did keep your soul locked away for most of your life.”

“That plan failed, Lucifer.” Sam spat. 

“Hmm, I did underestimate a few things. You see, when faeries turn to dark magic.” The king rose from his throne, Sam took a careful step back. “It rots them, slowly. Father did not allow us to be unkind or immoral and my vessel is suffering as a consequence. But fear not, here you are. My only child, my bastard boy with untold magic inside him. Are you going to see fit to save your dear papa or are we going to have to fight about it.” Lucifer chuckled but was struggling to walk. He was weak, it was true but he still possessed dangerous magic within him.

“You mistake me, I am not here to fight. I am here to kill you. Dead.”

“Fighting talk, I like it.” Lucifer waggled a finger at Sam as he shuffled toward the direction of the war room. “We should drink to celebrate your return, come.” Crowley appeared by the king’s side to assist him. “Get off, cur!” Lucifer snapped, yanking his arm away from Crowley who, like the good little minion he was, recoiled and bowed his head. Sam followed quietly, keeping his guard up. As powerful as he was, he had done little else but grow more spectacular wings and silenced a witch. He was unsure of what he was capable of. He sat at the war room table choosing not to sit in the place he once had when he was part of Lucifer’s plan to take over Harmony.

“What is your agenda here, Lucifer?’ Sam said, declining a cup of wine poured out by Crowley.

“No agenda, just two men. Father and son, talking and catching up.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Well, that is quite a lie if ever I heard one. You are simply brimming over with questions, I can feel your bitterness. That is the trouble with humanity, so many emotions. So many feelings.”

“Why have you waited for so long to start this war, especially since your vessel is breaking, why now?”

“Patience is my biggest virtue, you needed to be ready.”

“You know nothing of virtue.” Sam hissed and felt a small surge of power shoot through his body.

“Oh and you do? The last I heard of it, you were lying naked with that stupid, pretty boy king of the north. A man of all things. And not to mention family. And you tell me I cannot be virtuous. Pish!” The king chuckled. 

“You will not so much as mention him.” Sam’s nostrils flared, Lucifer enjoyed watching his son lose his calm.

“Ah, I touched a nerve. All of those keen young girls I brought to court for you and none of them could ever tempt you. I did often wonder why, but of course now I realise they had no meat between their legs. My deviant little bastard, I actually quite enjoy that.” 

Sam knew the king was trying to anger him but where Lucifer had the will to manipulate, the young prince had the power to let his comments wash over him. They were nothing but words Sam thought to himself.

“I am going to give you the opportunity to step down from this madness, Lucifer.”

“Oh please, call me father. I do miss that.”

“You are not my father. I have no father, not in the true sense of the word. Step down, you have lost. Your army has perished or deserted you, your people are defecting to the north where they are greeted with open arms and with kindness. There is nothing left for you. Step down, please.”

“You think I care about the people?” Lucifer laughed and encouraged Crowley to join him in a duet of mirth. The former tailor did but out of duty only. Even he was tired of the theatrics now. “They were a burden I did not want to carry. And now they’re dead or have moved to another part of Harmony to die. So what?”

“Are you mentally deficient?” Sam laughed, he could not help himself. “Being king is more than power and riches, it is about overseeing a kingdom and the people who live within it. You are an absolute ass. And quite frankly. I’ve had enough.” Sam stood up fast which made Lucifer flinch. If it was one thing the king of the south despised, it was being made to look stupid. He mostly managed to do that all by himself but to hear it from his little upstart bastard was too much. The anger surged through his body, giving his draining power a little lift.

“Oh no. Bloody hell.” Crowley muttered before making a dash toward a banner in a dark corner of the room to hide behind, just like his mother had only a day before. The apple truly does not fall from the tree. Lucifer stood up, his strength knocking his heavy wooden chair onto its back. He lifted one hand and flicked Sam across the room who fell against the edge of the open doors. The pain cut into his body but was brief, his healing powers were strong and he was soon pulling himself up from the floor. Lucifer advanced, his hand still raised, pushing his son back against the bleeding walls of the castle. Sam slid up the wall, resisting but felt himself suspended and pinned against the cold stone. Lucifer was still powerful even as his vessel begun to split open a little around his throat. Sam was the key to repairing the ‘meat suit’ and Lucifer had him. It took all of Sam’s strength to even close his eyes, he needed help he was not too proud to admit it. He concentrated on Rowena, freeing her from his spell, then sent an image into Crowley’s mind of his mother, her location and a whispered message of the word ‘help’. The MacLeod’s had two choices, hide or help, what they chose was beyond Sam’s grasp. He could only act alone until they decided. He pushed against Lucifer’s magic which torn into the flesh of his vessel and knocked him from his feet. Sam hit the ground, his legs crumbling beneath him. 

“Oh, you are strong, my son.” Lucifer chuckled, looking up at Sam from the floor. Sam smirked then raised his hand, Lucifer cowered then watched as Sam set fire to the dozen or so House Hades banners hanging from the walls. The fabric went up in flames and the images of blood red pitchforks burned away, a statement indeed. Sam looked down at Lucifer.

“Step down.” Sam hissed, his eyes now glowing a violent green.

“Never. Bastard!” Lucifer yelled but Sam had him, pinned against the floor with one hand outstretched, his body ached with the power which pushed out through his pores from within him. Sam used his other hand to pull the walls of the castle down, large stones fell to the ground around them. The floor shook and for the first time in his long life, Lucifer was scared. “If you pull this castle down, we’ll both die!”

“Better than to allow you live a second longer!” Sam was angry and that manifested himself into his magic. The walls fell, crumbling as if made of pastry.

Crowley had found Rowena still hiding but free of Sam’s magic beside the old oak tree. They watched together, unable to escape the grounds as the castle fell, piece by piece. Both held onto the tree for dear life.

“If the castle falls, then Lucifer goes with it.” Rowena shouted above the din of the destruction.

“Wouldn’t be a bad thing.” Crowley shrugged.

Back inside the broken war room there was no escape for Lucifer and no escape for his wrathful heir. Sam knelt in front of Lucifer, drawing his sword from his scabbard. It was Impala. Sam lifted the sword as Lucifer dragged his body away.

“It’s little wonder your vessel is dying, father.” Sam spat, wielding the powerful broad sword. “There is only one man worthy of this blade.” Sam sliced the sword into the air, severing one of Lucifer’s raised hands. The king screamed in pain, his faerie essence escaping from the bloody stump. Sam was all rage and fury as he took the kings other hand which flew up into the air, blood spattered and mixed with green essence. It had nowhere else to go but flounder in the air which was full of rubble dust, the essence circled, looking for a new vessel but it died and slowly dissipated. One last swing of Impala and Sam looked into the eyes of the most evil being and took off his head. The castle continued to fall around him, he fell back as the human part of him took the toll of the magic. Sam somewhere found the strength and ran through the ruins as stone and wood fell from up above. The shield around it had vanished and soon the crumbling building was drawing a crowd. The noise was deafening and had travelled far across the land.

The King of the North had been standing on watch, his eyes never once left the view of the Black Castle and the moment he had seen the place collapse he was riding Baby hard with Benny by his side. 

“Make way for the king!” Benny yelled as crowds of people parted to allow Dean passage toward the castle. It was a pile of stone and fire as the king pulled his horse into the grounds. Baby reared and whinnied at the sight, as if she knew.

“Your wee boy is still in there.” A soft voice came from behind a tree. The king saw the small red haired woman and Crowley who was stood next to her. The king raged, tempted to drive Cain into Crowley then and there. The noise of the crumbling building and the fires that burned within it drowned out the screams that came from the very pit of Dean’s stomach. He gave Crowley a ‘I will deal with you later’ scowl as he dismounted Baby, passing her reins to Benny so he could walk her to safety.

“Your majesty, it is far to dangerous to enter the castle.” Benny looked visibly panicked but the king was not to be told.

“Sam is in there, I cannot stand and watch. He might still be alive.”

The king clambered over broken walls and archways, iron doors bent out of all shape. Banners burned around him, falling in his path, the smut rising into the air. Dean choked back a call, screaming to be heard above the din as The Black Castle slowly and magically turned into ashes which were consumed by the earth.

“Sammy!” Over and over again, the king yelled out to his prince, deeper and deeper into the depth of the building as it seemingly melted away to nothing. Dean tripped over what was left of Lucifer but the sight of the slain false king did not cheer him.

“Dean.” The voice was faint but it was distinctly Sam. The king saw the reflection of flames in the sheen of the broadsword, his broadsword. And around the hilt, a hand. Sam’s hand, bloody. His knuckled still white from yielding the unforgiving blade. The king fell to his knees by the princes side.

“We need to get out of here, the earth is taking it back.” The king pulled Sam up, uninjured, the blood was not his own. Dean seized his sword which seemed to hum in recognition in his grasp. He dragged Sam up onto his feet as around them the building tumbled, the earth opened revealing the red hot pit underneath the foundations, it swallowed the stone greedily. As they walked out into the daylight, the king yelled out a warning to those who had gathered to watch. ‘Run! Or you too will be swallowed!” Once clear, Sam collapsed onto the ground taking Dean with him and together they watched the castle sink entirely into the earth. The land around them seemed to gulp it down leaving a huge cavernous hole in the ground, it glowed bright orange as the rubble was consumed by the Burning Pit. A monument to the decline of the kingdom of the south had vanished within mere minutes.

“Well, it looks like you’re king of everything and everyone now, your majesty.” Crowley stood over the king and his prince in a congratulatory mood.

“Do not think I have forgotten what you made us suffer, Crowley.” Sam said bitterly, healed now and able to rise to his feet. He towered over his diminutive former captor while his equally tiny mother hid behind her son. 

“I was merely taking orders, your highness.”

“No one looks that gleeful under duress. Go, before I kill you both.”

“As you wish.” Crowley nodded, vanishing with Rowena in front of their eyes.

“You let them go?” The king stood, leaning against Impala.

“Aye, there has been enough death today, my king.”

*

Over the coming months the kingdoms of the north and the south were joined and it was decreed that King Henry Dean of House Winchester would rule over the entire newly formed kingdom with his prince at his side. Their union was an unorthodox one but was largely accepted by the people, those who had suffered under the rule of Lucifer were once again happy and would not hear a bad word said about the brave young prince who saved them all, nor the man who loved him.  
The Burning pit was filled with the stone of The Black Castle’s perimeter walls and the space was transformed into a simple grass park land with pretty new saplings. A place to remember those who fought bravely for the false king and lost their lives. A place for those to gather and spend time together in a more peaceful, harmonious kingdom. A happy ever after where man and monster joined together to fight evil. And where love, in whichever form had won the day.


	14. Epilogue

EPILOGUE

King John and Queen Mary were memorialised by the king by way of a simple white marble statue of a faceless couple embracing and placed in the grounds of The White Castle.

King Lucifer’s remains were never found, having fallen into the pit with his broken castle. Over centuries the story of his slaying became a story told to children to warn them of the dangers of greed and selfishness.

Lord Robert became the king’s ‘Absolute Lord Protector’ until his death at the age of 101.

Lady Ellen continued her work as an apothecary and with the help of her daughter, Lady Joanna they opened a refuge for the sick. She outlived her husband by two days.

Queen Anael was remembered by Prince Sam and a small bust of her was erected in the throne room, a reminder of her beauty and bravery.

Crowley and his mother Rowena continued to cause a stir within the kingdom every once in a while, opening up illegal drinking houses and even once a brothel. They were brought to trial several times but never once convicted nor detained. Their whereabouts remain unknown.

Lady Joanna continued her mothers work after her death, she married General Lafitte and they had two boys.

Garth worked all his life serving the King and his Prince. He became a loyal and close friend to them both until he was bitten by a rogue werewolf and left the castle to join a pack after falling in love with a pretty blonde wolf.

Cesar and Jesse were given less lowly posts than living in the bowels of the castle to hide their love. They became joint leaders of ‘The Kings Hunters’ a new order to keep the newly allied monsters in check. They both excelled at their work, keeping relative peace between the humans and the forest dwellers.

General Benjamin Lafitte remained leader of the King’s Army as well as assisting his wife Lady Joanna at the refuge.

Russ and Joba worked closely alongside Cesar and Jesse, keeping the peace between humans and monsters.

Baby and Riot together sired four foals, starting the purest and most noble bloodline of royal horses freeing the Black Horses of the Forest of their commitment to House Winchester.

The king and his prince became great adventurers, exploring the undiscovered land beyond the forest of the former home of The Black Castle. There they found the land not to end abruptly as in the south with its white faced cliffs and rocks, instead the land seemed to go on forever, sloping down toward the sea which was surrounded by sand that was fine like sugar. The water was clear and blue. The place Sam had seen in his dream. They made a home there by the sea, a ‘seaside’ retreat as far south as anyone had been. The sea around the land soon became fruitful for the united peoples of Harmony, who made vessels that floated on the water and they learned that the sea was plentiful with tasty creatures. Soon there were sailors and fisherman aplenty.

King Dean and The Crown Prince Sam lived a long happy life together and there is nothing else you need to know.

The End


	15. Love Letters

When King Dean learned that he was to be tied to the north for two years and unable to save Prince Sam from the oppression of his evil father King Lucifer, his close friend Joanna urged him to write letters to his love; to keep him hopeful that one day they would be reunited. On that very same day, Dean ordered one hundred and four hand crafted envelopes to be made then spent an entire evening addressing each one. He used two pots of midnight blue ink and suffered cramp in his right hand.

His Royal Highness, Prince Samuel of House Hades  
The Black Castle of the South

King Dean wrote one letter a week for two years sending out three king’s guards in rotation to personally deliver the letters. They never once fell into the hands of Prince Sam and each one was burned in the fiery pits which rose from beneath The Black Castle.  
Here then, are a selection of the letters King Dean wrote to the man he had fallen in love with at first sight.

Sam, my love  
It has been many months since we last looked upon each other, my heart is so heavy with so much loss. My father, the king is dead and now it is down to me to rule the north. How will I find the strength inside me without you by my side? I fear I will let my people down since my heart and mind are so beyond repair. Only you, my love are capable of bringing me out of this pit of despair and loneliness.  
I do not wish to write to you with news only of my sadness but it is like a balm knowing that when you read these words, you will understand, you will sooth me. Come back to me soon, my sweet Prince for my love for you does not extinguish for even one moment.

With love and greatest affection.  
Your Dean

*

My sweet Sam,  
I dreamed so deeply last night, my love. So deeply that for a moment after waking I believed the dream to be true. Alas, you were not by my side but the dream gave me much hope for the future, our future.  
We were together and we were alone and happy, locked in an embrace that exuded comfort and safety. I felt so warm wrapped in your strong arms, warm and as if I were at home. When I awoke, I could still feel. Sam, I still feel you now and what hope that brings me! That one day you and I will be able to embrace once more, what a happy notion to live by.  
I hope that you are well, my love  
With fondest affection and love  
Your Dean

*

Beautiful Sam,  
Oh how I have struggled with this letter, it almost did not come. But I know that I can say anything to you, my love. Not only does my heart ache for you, but my body too. You once asked me what I thought about when I pleasure myself, for then, I could not truly answer but now, it is you, my handsome, strong prince. Oh, how I long to feel your naked body against my own, taste your skin against my tongue. I crave it so that my prick aches when I touch it, forgive my crassness but I do not know how to sate the feelings of desire. Sam, the thoughts I have inside my head are full of fire and are so base that I am shocked with myself! I know you will no doubt find my virtuosity amusing but I have been reading.  
Since I met you, it has encouraged me to read more and I have spent many an hour in my library, which you are sure to love. I found a book, a book I did not dare to open for many days after I discovered it. For it detailed in quite graphic text and illustrations in the act of love making. There was little to pique my particular interests but, tucked inside the leaf of the book was a notebook of sorts, one could not call it a book but Sam, oh the revelations! I cannot bring myself to write down what I saw, I am too shy. Let us just say that it has given me food for thought.

Until next week  
With love and fire  
Your Dean

*

Dearest Sam,  
I write to you now as a different man. I am King. It has been a wonderful day and I was proud and astonished to see so many of my people celebrate with me. I stood alone on The White Castle balcony and Sam, I was overcome with affection. But, it barely touched what I feel for you, barely. Is that not incredible? That one man can make me feel more loved than an entire kingdom.  
I admit and I am not sorry, that I write to you with a heavy head that feels as if it were full of lead. I drank much wine last night, it seemed to be the only comfort to me since I missed so much having my handsome Prince Sam by my side.  
I shall come to you soon, my darling. I promise.

Love and affection  
Your Dean

*

Dear Sam,  
For once I would like so much to receive a reply from you. Even a few words to tell me that my hope is being wasted on someone who no longer loves me.  
I cannot speak, nor can I write. I fear my bitterness would harm us but I could not miss a week. I wish sometimes that you and I had never crossed paths.  
Dean

*

My handsome Prince Sam,

I need you so, my love. The need is deepening, not diminishing, how can that be when there is so much time and distance between us. My body yearns for you, my prick aches and weeps to be inside you. I now know what our bodies could do together, how we could feel as if we were one being. Oh Sam, to feel it, us together.  
In all of these many months there has not been another whom could even begin to tempt me. And yet my needs are so very strong. My love, you started a fire inside me that can not be dampened. It blazes with such force inside my belly that I cry out your name when I release. Write back to me, tell me how you will quell my urges, sate me. Fuck me. I need you. Come to me.

Forever yours  
Dean

*

My Sam,  
I have but one week to wait until I come to you. Two years has passed by with such haste, yet these last few days feel like eternity. Knowing that you will be by my side so soon fills my heart with emotions I cannot understand. Trepidation and excitement, such longings to hold you, to feel you against me and yet, I am fearful too. Your silence troubles me and yet I still feel hope, your eyes did not lie to me when we proclaimed our love all those months ago. I know in my heart that we are still both in love.  
Only days now until we are reunited and this is the last letter I will write for any words I wish to share with you, my love will be said in your presence, whispered into your ear, breathed over your naked skin.  
Until next week, my love.

Your ever loving king  
Dean


End file.
